


The Uncertainty Principle

by Clarice Chiara Sorcha (claricechiarasorcha)



Series: Logical Fallacies [1]
Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Implied Relationships, M/M, Multi, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-24
Updated: 2012-03-31
Packaged: 2017-10-31 16:21:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 95,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/346088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claricechiarasorcha/pseuds/Clarice%20Chiara%20Sorcha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jane idly wishes for some unconventional input as she works to open the Einstein-Rosen bridge, she neither quite expects nor appreciates the visit she receives. Things only go from bad to worse when Thor does arrive back. Not only is she about to discover the awkward logistics of a relationship born of less than a week of falling in love, Loki is determined to ensure that if he is going to suffer, then so must everybody else.</p><p>Post-movie AU that deals with the troubled relationship between Thor, Loki, and Jane in amongst the mess caused by SHIELD arsing about with the cosmic cube; it started out as a short story about Loki being a creeper, and has since exploded all over my brain. It's sort of like the way you ask for a nice normal four-legged horse and somehow end up receiving one with eight legs and Tony Stark on its back, wearing a tin hat and brandishing a plastic sword. ...may god have mercy on my soul.</p><p>Also, I'm a comic-virgin movie-n00b. I'm definitely not worthy to wield the power of this hammer, but lookit me try.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sound Advice

**Author's Note:**

> This is only the second time I've tried to write in this fandom, and it kind of ate my brain. Basically this is my way of trying to get inside Loki's head and understand the motives behind his madness. For whatever reason, poor Jane stepped up to the plate to take the hit. So -- batter up.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jane works overtime, Tony acts like he's being useful, and Loki actually IS helpful. In a manner of speaking.

Most girls probably would have made an admirable attempt to rip giant holes right through reality itself if it meant they’d get to have Tony Stark all to themselves. Even though she was theoretically doing that long before he’d shown up on her doorstep, Jane had shooed him out of her laboratory space after approximately half a day anyway. She’d heard from an aghast Darcy later that he’d flown back to Los Angeles sometime in the early evening. She’d been too busy to notice. After briefly flicking to her facebook page later, Jane had to wonder why Darcy was so upset; she’d posted enough candid pictures of Stark on her wall to crash the internet several times over.

It wasn’t that the man didn’t have considerable charm. They’d only been together a matter of hours, and he’d more than lived up to his reputation. Once upon a time his easy smile and wry commentary might have left Jane as tongue-tied as had Thor’s irrepressible enthusiasm for anything and everything. But that was precisely it – he wasn’t Thor. He didn’t even come close.

Coulson had sent him over – though Tony had rolled his eyes as soon as he’d sauntered in and renamed it “a casual suggestion. And I had a couple free days, so I figured what the hell, might as well see how close I have to get to the border before the tequila starts getting good.” Jane had only just repressed an eyeroll of her own at the thought anyone could possibly believe Tony Stark ever had swathes of conveniently free time.

Despite the casual setup she hadn’t bothered to hide how much she appreciated both the thought and the gear he had brought her. While the man undoubtedly had more money than sense, saying so wasn’t much of an insult; he was both a billionaire and even by Jane’s standards the man had _smarts_. She’d found it very hard to equate the swaggering chameleon she’d seen on the television with the man working beside her. Within five minutes he’d had his shirt sleeves rolled up and his hair sticking wildly in all directions, half a mad scientist’s workshop in orbit around them both as he began to explain what he’d brought her. When the story of Iron Man had first broken she, Darcy and Erik had placed bets on how likely it was that Tony Stark really had created the suit himself. Any doubt she’d had had long since evaporated, even though she’d been the one to profit most out of the old bet.

But even though they’d both realised quickly enough he could best let her proceed by giving her his toys to play with and going off to get some more of his own, her heart thrummed with sudden gratitude every time she looked around her crowded lab space. While she still didn’t know how to use even a quarter of stuff he’d left her to experiment with, she’d had already incorporated bits and pieces of gifted Stark tech into her own equipment.

The Einstein-Rosen bridge was no longer a dream. And there was something far better than a pot of gold at the end of this rainbow.

Though their first and only meeting had been two weeks ago, it didn’t feel much like a dream – she’d been on the phone with Tony earlier. As if her life wasn’t odd enough, she was now getting work-related calls from the man who was so down with himself he’d broken the cardinal rule of being a superhero so quickly almost nobody could remember not immediately associating Stark and Iron Man. Every call had been so conversational they might have known each other for years, and she had to think it strange that he freely admitted he didn’t think himself much use to her even before she’d explained she didn’t need to build a lot of gear.

“Like I said, I’m just trying to open the bridge from our end,” she said as Tony tilted a curious look at the latest proofs she’d forward, “because it’s the path of least resistance, yeah? We already know the Bifröst will run this way when it’s opened from Asgard. We just have to figure out a way to harness that potential from our end.”

Her current theories tended towards particle excitation while taking advantage of favourable atmospheric conditions. While no astrophysicist, Tony tended to catch on to the general gist of her theories with admirable speed; today seemed no exception. “You sound like you’re close.”

“I am.” He raised an eyebrow, looking away from her unbalanced and unfinished equations. She just barely contained a sigh. As useful as a genius engineer was, she really needed something a little stranger as a consultant. “But…I don’t know.”

“What don’t you know?”

“It’s science, but it’s not.” Lacing her fingers under her chin, she looked pensively into her computer’s mounted camera. “Thor actually said what we call science they call magic, but even with all the readings we got and what he told me…it’s just _different_. And he really couldn’t tell me a lot, I have to say. Magic was never his thing, apparently – he usually left it to his brother.”

“The charming one who used those little tricks to level the downtown metropolitan area?” Amusement curled about both Tony’s words and his generous lips, but Jane sensed no mockery in it. Besides, according to Darcy he’d been nothing less than his usual charismatic self the one morning he’d spent in town. He’d wandered over to the diner to pick up a couple of coffees, and apparently caused a riot – or as near to one as a person could get in a town with a population less than three thousand. Jane had been so engrossed in networking one of the Stark supercomputers to her laptop she didn’t even notice he was gone for fifty minutes rather than five. Or that he’d come back with so many napkins with phone numbers on it looked like he’d stuffed a paper mill into his pockets.

With a sigh, Jane frowned and concentrated on the present. “That’s the one,” she said, unable to repress a shudder; she could still taste the air as it had been that day, bitter as dry ice tinged with burning ozone. “It sounds stupid, I know, but…I almost wish I could talk to him. He’d know something about how to fix all this, from what Thor was saying.”

“I’m sure he probably had something to do with causing it, from what Coulson said about what happened down there,” Tony remarked, dark eyes more grave than she usually expected from him. “Just be careful, yeah?” Only then did d familiar smirk curve like a promise across his mobile features. “Because there’s a shortage of hot scientists in the world. We’ve got to stick together – the world _needs_ our hotness, Jane. We can’t let them down now.”

Despite her increasing headache, Jane found herself grinning as she ended the call. Still, it soon faded into the silence Tony’s absence left behind. Her work called to her, waiting patiently as always. Instead she remained motionless in her chair with chin upon hand, staring out the window. The town radiated out before her view, still half-shattered from the attack a month before. Yet familiar faces remained everywhere, from streetcorners to car windows to sidewalks to shop windows. It made sense – it was not as easy to run away from a life as people sometimes thought, even when said life had been turned upside down.

“Where are you, Thor?”

No revelatory answer came. Jane hadn’t expected one; she asked the question so often that sometimes the words seemed to have no meaning, were just sound dancing upon the air. She finally turned away from the view of the street, empty now in the earliest hours of morning, and looked back to the opened notebook. She had not run away either. Even if the entire town had packed up and left, she would have stayed.

Tapping her fingers on the desk, cheek now propped on her hand, she stared at the page before her. Despite the assistance she’d been given both from SHIELD and Stark, Jane had no idea why Thor had not returned. Something must have befallen the Bifröst. Other fears lurked beneath that one, fainter but no less real for it. Perhaps he’d changed his mind about her; she _had_ been the one to initiate their kiss. But greater than that was the memory of what his brother had done to him through the avatar that had made such short work of Sif and the Warriors Three. Even when she remembered how he had looked with Mjölnir in hand and his godhood restored to him, Jane could scarcely believe their so-called _words_ could have ended any better.

Yet even the thought of his brother’s wrath wasn’t really what bothered her. All too well she could remember how he’d looked that night, under the stars when he’d drawn her Yggdrasil. She’d cradled the book in her hands as he’d stared at the sky. The words had come, halting at first, and then all in a flood – but while he eventually spoke easily of his home, the people he’d loved came less freely.

At first she’d thought the wound too raw, so soon after his failure to retrieve Mjölnir. Then, he’d admitted something else. The rich voice, otherwise so sure and so bold, had lowered; the blue eyes had darkened, shadows dancing a mocking quickstep across the strong lines of his face.

_“He told me that our father is dead.” A deep breath, shuddering and seemingly too big even for his broad chest. “He said…that he wished I could come home. But it is impossible. I am not worthy of the throne, nor of their forgiveness. But…he came. He came, and he told me himself. For that, I will always be grateful.”_

She’d laid a hand over his, murmuring meaningless agreeable syllables even as her mind rebelled against it. They’d always been so close, from what little Thor had brought himself to tell her; it seemed somehow wrong that he’d not done more for him, no matter the circumstances of Thor’s exile.

She had swallowed down on any misgivings that night, but only because he’d spoken of him with such affection. Such _love_. In that moment his heart had seemed as big and unreal as his world. In the end Jane thought that was why he had walked towards the Destroyer so calm, so unflinching, even after his friends had told him of all his younger brother had done in his absence. How it had been entirely possible his younger brother had been the instigator of all that had led to his exile.

“So why did you betray him?” she asked the notebook before her. She’d always been inclined to thinking aloud, whether within her lab or out under the stars. “Because you think he killed your father?” Immediately she shook her head, leaned back in her chair. “But that’s not right. Your father was never dead. Why would you lie about that? Why would you _tell_ someone something like that?”

“He was not my father.” The voice that floated out of the darkness behind her paused, and then coiled about a rich, low chuckle. “Although I could hardly argue the point even if it had been true, considering that I committed technical patricide quite soon after myself.”

With a yelp Jane fell out of her chair, landed hard and ungraceful upon her tailbone. Without bothering to register pain she scrambled upward and braced against her desk, pens and papers scattering like the dust of a thousand nebulae.

A tall man lurked amongst the deeper shadows of her laboratory. Yet even in the darkness he seemed more _real_ , more present for all his impossibility. Lean and watchful, her numb mind whispered of the way they said people could be hungry like the wolf. And yet despite the coiled menace of his form he remained motionless. He could have been a marble statue, but for the raven-black hair and the intense unblinking green of his eyes.

Her nails scraped against the underside the desk as her knees threatened to give way beneath the weight of that stare. Stars danced before her eyes, breath coming quick. She closed her eyes for a moment, but it didn’t help; all the darkness brought with it was the memory of Erik’s books, of the words in the old-style type emblazoned across the top of one page: _Loki_. _God of Mischief_.

When she opened her eyes, when she spoke, Jane almost didn’t recognise her own voice. The calm query of it seemed as precisely, impossibly alien as the man before her.

“Are you Thor’s brother?”

“Ah, well. It seems you were not quite listening.” He blinked only once, deliberate and disgusted. “I am _not_ Thor’s brother, though one might suspect even now he might prefer to claim otherwise.” The accompanying twist of his lips might have been something like a smile on anyone else. “My poor, foolish Thor. That is not how it should be between us, not any longer.”

Jane’s dry mouth tasted of ozone again. And iron. She’d bitten her lip without even feeling it. “What?”

“We are not related by blood,” he said, a hint of impatience entering the melodious tone; Jane stared, a creeping horror beginning to solidify into a shape of decidedly non-Euclidian geometry.

“You lied to him? About something like _that_?”

It felt deeply wrong to call the sound that escaped his throat _laughter_ ; it roiled like a nest of snakes, uneasy and hissing and bloated with venom. “Ironically enough, I am not the one who originated that lie – nor did I even attempt to perpetuate it. In fact I was the one to enlighten him as to its very existence.” His head tilted to one side, skin near-luminous. “Not that he chose to believe it. Perhaps he will not believe it even when it comes to him from the lips of the Allfather himself.”

The word tasted of a thousand impossibilities. “Odin?”

“Odin,” he said, and he rolled the word upon his own tongue as if it tasted to him of bitter gall. Then, for the first time he moved; Jane started, slid sideways even as he paid her not the slightest heed. Instead he leaned forward over her desk, eyes narrowed as he examined the largest screen. Even when bathed in the blue glow of the monitor, they burned bright green. “So I see that your work continues.” He turned his head, sudden and slight, and she flinched. “Though of course I’ve been watching you for some time already.”

“I…”

“There’s no need to be shy, Ms. Foster.” Her name sat no more easily upon his lips than had that of his father, and his gaze moved now to the papers upon her desk. “I have no intention of interfering with your…admirable…progress. Quite the contrary, in fact.”

He remained silent for so long, once again still as he stared at her looping scrawl and fluid diagrams, that Jane had to break the impasse. Somehow she thought they both known its inevitability.

“Where is Thor?”

“There is no need to worry your mortal little head about his general health. I did not kill him.” Scorn coloured his words again as he looked up, straightening again to something close to his full height. “As it stands I have no particular desire to harm one precious blonde hair upon his head.”

Jane was used to being the shortest person in the room. She supposed long practise gave her the ability to raise her chin and state, “Well, given your little performance with the giant Zippo lighter action figure out there, I guess it’s not so weird I might think otherwise.”

The sharp flare of those unnatural eyes had her almost biting her tongue this time. _Damn you, Tony Stark,_ she thought, random and almost hysterical. _Two weeks in your company and I’m already mouthing off to people of unnatural power. Thanks a **lot**_.

And yet Loki’s wrath did not materialise. Instead he narrowed his eyes again, an entomologist studying the butterfly he had sprawled and formulated upon a pin. “You do not understand.”

Her whole body shook, even with her arms crossed over her chest and her nails digging into her skin. She spoke with the level grace of a lady of war. “So enlighten me.”

The faintest hint of amusement brought vague colour to his frost-pale skin. Jane didn’t think that a good sign. “Do you not wonder why Thor has not returned to you, Ms. Foster?”

“Of course I wonder.” The conversational tone crept along her spine like the questing curiosity of a roused snake, and she shuddered. “Then I remember his brother is the so-called god of mischief and think _maybe he had something to do with it_.”

“And now here I stand before you.” He opened his arms to her, as if he had nothing to hide; the shadows all about him clustered closer with every word. “Oh, yes, they do call me Liesmith, but you may believe me on this much: his lack of return is not voluntary.”

“What did you do?”

He almost snorted. “He did it himself.”

“He wouldn’t have.”

“Oh, but he did.” Jane’s heart twisted, and like a Mobius strip she didn’t think it would ever lay flat even if undone – then Loki shook his head, eyes sharp with ravenous curiosity where they raked across her skin. “Although I must confess to the manufacture of certain…mitigating circumstances, shall we say?”

She spoke through numb lips. “So it was _your_ fault.”

“How am I to deny it?” That peculiar twist moved his mouth again, as if he’d forgotten how to smile; it was accompanied by an odd flash in his eyes, a furrowing of his brows. Both vanished so quickly not sure she hadn’t imagined it. “Yes, Ms. Foster. My brother destroyed the bridge to the Bifröst, but only because I forced his hand.”

“Why would you do that?”

“You would never understand. Not that it matters. My work there remains undone, but it can wait.” Satisfaction shimmered like ice underneath his words. “When the time is right, Thor will be the one to achieve all that we were always destined to set in motion.”

And fine hairs prickled all along the back of her neck. “What?”

This time Loki ignored her, moving further down the curved collection of tables that made up her workstation to peer at another of the new holographic screens. Despite Tony’s standby offer of assistance, she hadn’t progressed very far with transferring her data to the beta system he’d set up for her to tinker with. Young as she was, Jane sometimes figured she might naturally belong to a generation long before the one she’d been born to; when it came to pouring out her initial thoughts and theories, she much preferred the simple reality of working with pen and paper over even the most technologically advanced computer systems on offer.

Loki stared at one of those systems now, dark brows furrowed though the pale face remained as difficult to read as a closed and shelved book. Yet he held himself so casually, imbued with a grace that did not make her doubt he had been raised as royalty. The fine cut of his long coat and the suit beneath flattered every long line, a sharp-dressed man who seemed utterly at odds with the shambles of her humble lab. _My name is Mephistopheles_ , she thought, sudden, _but you can call me baby._

“I didn’t expect you to look like this.” Jane’s hand covered her mouth far too late, but when Loki turned to her it was with nothing so threatening as a simple raised eyebrow.

“Then what did you expect?”

Though he spoke with a kind of urbane gentility it sounded almost to be a rhetorical question, as if any answer she could give would only be the inconsequential bleating of a mortal. That was not the only reason she didn’t reply immediately. The thought of Thor, the way he had looked in what Donald had never come by to pick up, roared to life. Even when clothed in someone else’s vague memory, Thor had been nothing if not utterly and entirely himself.

Green eyes fixed upon her, unblinking and unmoving. They brought with them the uncomfortable feeling that this creature could read her mind. A moment later, she drew a sharp breath; a shimmer overlaid his body like an echoing image. Though the suited man remained above, another vision of armour in gold, green, black flickered just underneath its surface like a double-exposure. The arching horns, moving in a graceful twinned curve from his proudly held head, stole his breath again: this was the god beneath the stupid man suit he wore so casually over it. Then it vanished, and Jane could breathe again.

“Could Thor do that?” she whispered.

“This?” Annoyance and amusement warred upon near-gaunt features, eyes flashing to match the green shimmer of fire that danced about his fingertips still. “Why should Thor wish to do such a thing? It is _seid_.”

Erik had taught her some Norwegian, over the years, but the word felt as unfamiliar as the god himself. “ _Seid_?”

“Sorcery. A woman’s dominion.” His expression had become almost a sneer, eyes alighting now upon her scattered notes, the glowing screens with their mosaic diagrams and equations lighting the way to a world she knew only from a treasured diagram in a notebook. “Perhaps this accounts for his fascination with you,” he said, and his voice grew quieter still. “Perhaps I might even find this fortunate.”

Jane couldn’t be sure what that last bit meant. She wasn’t sure she wanted to; given the volume at which he’d spoken it, she suspected he hadn’t even meant her to hear it. “Is that how come you’re here when the Bifröst is broken?”

“Yes.” This time the look he condescended to give her really almost was a smile. She sincerely wished he hadn’t bothered. “And no. There are more realms than heaven and earth than any mere mortal could ever hope to dream of, no matter their philosophy, Ms. Foster.”

With that said he turned away from her. Still at the opposite end of her desk, Jane watched him continue to examine her work. After her experiences with SHEILD she felt surprised she could stand it; she’d been twitchy about that sort of thing even before they’d swooped in and swept all her research and equipment into the back of a truck. Somehow didn’t want to stop him, even as she felt the ever-present threat emanating from his lean form.

“Are you going to kill me?”

He didn’t bother to look up. “No.”

The text of Erik’s books danced before her eyes again – and he had himself so casually invoked the epithet of _liesmith_. Yet she believed him. It didn’t stop her asking why. “Am I so important to you then?”

He stilled, though he had not been moving much to begin with. “You have your importance to Thor.”

“You tried to kill him.”

He did not straighten, but he turned his eyes upon her and narrowed them to bare slits. “I’ve already informed you that you know nothing of what my intentions were. I suggest you don’t delude yourself into thinking you ever will. You lack the capability to understand such matters, not to mention you have other work to concentrate on.”

Jane stared, unable to speak. From what Thor had said of his brother that night they’d slept beside one another on the battered deckchairs, Loki had rarely expressed any true desire to rule himself. _But he always said I was too hot-headed_ , and he’d shaken his head, rueful and melancholy and yet smiling still, even through his tempered misery. _So I would need him, my brother, to stand always by my side and be the brains to my brawn. Alone, we were merely two halves; together, we would be the ruler that Asgard required. I think I forgot that, towards the end. He never did. Loki forgets nothing._

“So you _want_ me to open the Einstein-Rosen bridge?” she asked finally, shallow and disbelieving. “You _want_ me to see Thor again?”

“Hardly.” He returned to his examination of her work, so casual in its condescension. “You are unworthy of the hand of an Asgardian prince.”

That stung. Again, even though her legs were jelly that couldn’t hold her upright without hers hands clinging to the desk, Jane held her chin high and let her mouth run away with her. “It’s his choice, isn’t it?”

“In fact it is not,” he intoned carelessly, now flicking through the readings of a seismic drum with clear incredulity. “Use your lauded mortal mind, Ms. Foster – why should I wish to have you open the bridge?”

“If you’re not really his brother, then you’re no more Asgardian royalty than I am,” she snapped back. “So makes you so worthy to stand at his side?”

“Because Asgardian or not, I remain a prince.” The muttered words held deep scorn – but she felt it was not as directed at her as he wished it to appear. It gave her an odd confidence she grasped with both hands.

“What are you, then? The Prince of Lies?” She pursed her lips, stood her ground. “I can’t imagine that fairytale having a happy ending.”

“You mortals and your Midgardian tales of princes and princesses, witches and dragons,” he said, and one long finger absently traced the line of a geode upon one pile of papers before he moved it aside. “Always getting everything wrong.”

“Like the eight legged horse thing?”

Jane realised she’d actually surprised him for the first time; his eyes widened, and it seemed such a waste, over something so trivial. “Why is it, that everybody is so unable to move past the eight-legged horse?” he muttered, and then pushed aside his own question with a sharp slash of one hand. “But no matter. I lowered myself to this place for only two reasons.”

Only curiosity as to his answer allowed Jane to curb her indignant tongue this time around. She felt rather glad Tony wasn’t around to step up to the plate in her steed. “What reasons?”

“To see if his faith in you was as misplaced as I suspected.” A flash of rage twisted his face like rock under pressure, the fissures of his eyes and mouth revealing the roiling lava beneath. “For once I am gratified to be wrong.”

Jane felt so backhanded by the compliment it was as if he’d actually hit her; in order to speak, she had to catch her breath first. “And the other?”

“I wanted to meet you for myself.” The force of his contempt, even tempered as it was by the resumption of his polite façade, forced the breath out of her again as he leaned close. “This…mortal creature, who thinks herself worthy of the position of my brother’s consort.”

“He chose me!”

“Thor has not been known to make the wisest of choices.” An eerie sense of déjà vu hovered above like a sharpened sword of Damocles; that same concoction of misery and nostalgia had been upon Thor’s face when he’d spoken of Loki. Then something darker, something far more dangerous, incorporated itself and he murmured, “That is why I have been at his side from the very beginning.”

A strange dread began its genesis low in her abdomen, parasitic and ravenous, growing exponentially by the second. “As his brother,” she whispered, hating the way her voice wavered at its last syllable.

“As his better half,” he corrected, and that dread-creature bit sharp teeth into Jane’s stomach so strongly she gasped. “I may no longer be his brother, Ms. Foster. But do not doubt I will take my rightful place sooner rather than later.”

Even through the roaring in her ears her whisper sounded like a shout at the heart of the world. “You’re not making any sense.”

“I’m making perfect sense. It’s simply that I do not expect _you_ to understand that.” Yet Jane was terribly, horribly afraid that she did. Loki’s face took on a peculiar distance, a melancholy that meant despite everything she had heard, to her horror she actually felt _sorry_ for him.

“Thor and I have been together as long as either one of us can remember. This is but a moment, a shift in the nature of our importance to one another.” His head snapped around again, eyes dark and uncompromising. “We will be together again. I understand now what I must do, how it must be – do not doubt it, Ms. Foster, for I never will again.”

The strangeness of both his confidence and his very appearance reminded Jane of how she felt when she went three days without sleep and then wandered out onto the street in the middle of the night. The town would lie silent, the stars drifting overhead – and the world itself would seem too bright even in its darkness, as if every object was limned in unseen energy, hyper-real and ill-fitting. Yet that self-assurance was undermined by an odd vulnerability as he spoke of his brother.

Her fingers scraped on the desk, wanting to curve into fists. She wouldn’t feel sorry for him. She _couldn’t_. Her heart still ached from the memory of that day, her relief when the monstrous metallic creature had turned from Thor – the terror when it had spun back with one outflung arm. And now Loki stood here himself, the madness shining from his shuttered green eyes rather than the empty vessel of their father’s wrath. _Loki never forgets_ , Thor had told her. And even though they’d known each other such a short time, Jane thought she knew the partner of that statement: _Thor always forgives._

“He still loves you.” Though one eyebrow quirked upward, Loki’s sharp look passed through her like blades of ice. She pushed on regardless. “I don’t know _why_ , but I’m sure of it. He still loves you. Don’t do this to him.”

“But I am no longer his brother.” The words floated upon the air, spoken so low as to be directed to only himself. “Without the blood connection, I’m just another hanger-on, someone of no consequence. I could be dismissed. He’d never have looked at me twice, if I hadn’t been his brother.”

Jane stared, any words of her own tangled deep in her throat. Every ounce of sense in her screamed to take the advantage, to turn tail and run. It wasn’t even the thought of the god’s sorcery that stopped her. It was the memory of his face, bathed in the light of the stars that had been her own confidants for so long.

 _I miss him so much already,_ Thor had said, trapped between incredulity and resignation. _I cannot imagine it being any worse – and yet I cannot imagine it every becoming better. Will it sound so very terrible, if I say that the sorrow I bear for my father is at least an easier weight? For I already know I will never see him again. But my brother…he is still there, yet he is lost to me. They are all lost to me. But they can still be found, though I will never know the way back home to them. That’s the true agony of it._

“But it doesn’t have to be that way,” Loki whispered, and Jane started out of her memory.

“What?”

She had become dangerously used to his stillness, and knew it only when he moved towards her with the swift cold purpose of a cobra. The lean body, strong and unmoving, stopped scant centimetres from hers, hands either side of her hips. She’d barely had the time to blink. “Tell me, Ms. Foster,” he murmured, eyes searching and voice low, “how does my brother taste?”

Jane’s silence gained her nothing, but her heart had lodged itself in her throat and hurt so badly she thought she’d never speak again.

“No answer?” He was so close she could feel the reverberation of his chuckle deep in his chest; a moment later she wondered why she couldn’t hear his heart. “Well, perhaps I can still taste him upon you, then.”

His lips crushed down upon hers. At first the simple shock of it held her still. Then, objective observation kicked in; she had been born and raised a scientist, and she could conclude brute force would get her nowhere. While Loki lacked his brother’s muscle she could feel the whip-corded strength of the body pressing against hers. More than that, this close she could feel what she supposed was his sorcery, running beneath his skin like river configured in the shape of an ouroboros.

She had felt nothing of that from Thor. Even in execution, the kiss reminded her little of his brother. After his initial shock, Thor had swiftly given way to the unbridled enthusiasm that he’d had for everything. From the beginning she’d known him to be a man who lived life to its fullest simply because it was there to be lived. Loki could not be more different. Everything about his embrace felt probing, curious – and he made nothing about it gentle. He’d wanted his answer and he was taking it the way human scientists took knowledge from their experimental animal subjects.

With no chance to retaliate Jane forced herself to relax, to let him push her back. Even with that concession her breathing didn’t ease, and not just because of the kiss; his weight leaned heavy upon her as he sought ever deeper. Jane had no idea what he was looking for, but knew his concentration had wandered elsewhere. Letting her left hand move to the side, she gave a mental grimace; she was right-handed, but it would have to do. Then he pulled back, leaving mere inches between them, eyes dancing like the light-hearted song of a mockingbird.

“You _enjoy_ this,” he said, something very much like childish wonder in his voice. Then its register dropped again, his eyes darkening into something that tasted very much like hate. “Whore.”

Jane didn’t think. She picked up the geode that doubled as a paperweight and slammed it into the side of his head. Loki reared back and she could breathe again; but even as she gasped, the small of her back still pressed painfully against the lip of the desk, she knew she had lost more than she’d won when he looked up and she saw no blood. She hadn’t even bruised the bastard.

“Ah, so there is something of the warrior even in you, perhaps.” Fingertips fluttered over his temple, and the briefest of bright grins flashed across his face as he actually laughed. “He likes that, of course. But I do have to tell you, Ms. Foster, that that didn’t hurt one little bit!”

“So kill me, then,” she gasped, somehow more disturbed by that fleeting smile than his words. _That was the Loki that Thor loves_ , she thought as she remembered again his softly spoken memories, _the easy smile, and laughter like blue sky rain – cool and bright and utterly and completely out of place._

“Kill you? Now why would I be so very wasteful?” His disdain was such that she almost expected him to tsk in the fashion of a disgusted mother. “Do remember that you have your uses.”

Though a physical scientist rather than biological, Jane knew the life and times of an experimental animal; she knew that they would be put down when their use was at an end. One hand rose to her lips, found the taste of him still there: cold and mineral-rich, like frozen springwater. Loki followed her movement, eyes widening with the faintest hint of mockery.

“You humans have…an interesting taste, I will admit.” One long-fingered hand moved in dismissal. “But allow me to give you a metaphor – you are sudden and sweet and cloying, like a cheap meal bought on a whim from one of your drive-through shacks.

“I, on the other hand, am crafted individually by the skilled hands of an artisan. A true flavour, one prepared especially for the palate of a single guest.” He raised an eyebrow. “How could you ever hope to compete with that?”

“ _Compete_?”

“Allow me to offer you some advice, Ms. Foster,” he stated, though she suspected he needed her allowance for nothing. “Remember that you are and always will be nothing more than mortal. My brother is divine.” And the god of mischief smiled broadly with his jealous green eyes rather than his lying mouth. “And he is _mine_.”

The challenge left her lips before she even considered its inherent foolishness. “He’s not your brother.”

“Hence the need for a little change in our circumstances, yes?” he said, and Jane wished she’d said nothing at all when his lips curved with the certainty of pure playful delusion. “I will be his equal – and that is something you can never be.”

“You can’t—”

“I think you’ll find not only that I can, but that I will.”

Gall burned her throat. “Thor wouldn’t.”

He laughed, and in that low, pulsing sound she heard the words he did not need to speak aloud: _I’ve known him my whole Asgardian life; you knew him perhaps three mortal days. Can you be so sure?_ When he did speak, his voice resonated with the confidence of that undeniable truth. “Your work has its uses, Ms. Foster. As do you.” He gave a little sardonic nod towards the screens. “So carry on, then.”

“What?”

Loki reached over. Jane flinched. But he reached past her without once deigning to touch her, taking up one of her scattered mechanical pencils. Then his gaze fell upon the notebook, and Thor’s Yggdrasil diagram. Jane flinched again; she could see no reason why he would chose not to destroy this gift his brother had given her.

His quick movements, deft and economical, criss-crossed the beloved page. At their conclusion he tossed the pencil aside and turned back with a dark grin that curved like the illusion of the helmet she had seen upon his head. The bow he dipped her swept disdainful and low.

“I do look forward to seeing the result of your labours.”

Though she did not see him anywhere near the door, a moment after he had turned he had gone. Again she tasted ozone, the cold blue light of the screens like ice upon her skin.

Then she reached for the notebook: her own renderings of the planets, Thor’s world tree, and beneath both now Loki’s own coda. The neat writing flowed across the base, spouting new growth just above its roots. Its meaning did not strike her as immediately obvious. But she had no doubt the tangle of words and numbers would offer a breakthrough in the practical application of her own theories.

Braced against the desk, Jane closed her eyes and finally gave in to the demand of her exhausted body. As she sank to the floor she remembered with painful clarity the easy affection of a golden smile. Now it lay under the shadow of the dark curve of another’s lips. Even as her hand reached upwards for the warm familiarity of a four-colour pen, Jane wondered if creating the bridge was something she should still be doing given what she had since discovered.

She opened her eyes. Then, with her back against her desk drawers and her notebook balanced upon her knees, Jane began to write. She would not run away. Not when she had something to run to. Not when there was still so much more left to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had written this intending it to be a one-shot exploring Loki's need to be someone *important* even though he didn't have any real interest in the throne itself. How well it worked, I'm not sure. The thing is, as I wrote it, I had Thor come wander past and offer what felt suspiciously like a companion piece. And now I am terribly afraid this is only the beginning. But I'll let you know. Loki has, after all, just informed me that there are more tricks in this than I realise. And illusions, too...
> 
> Also, if anyone can tell me how to stop Tony Stark from strolling into everything I write in this fandom, it'd be most appreciated.


	2. Words Cannot Describe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...so. This looks like it's going to be a THING. I do warn you that I have absolutely **zero** idea where this is going, I'm just letting the characters do what they like. (And yes, I am aware that allowing Tony Stark to do such things means I totally deserve whatever I get.) But to give you a heads up on the general gist of things: I am intrigued by the way Loki seems to spend the movie swinging back and forth like a cracked pendulum, and I have to wonder how much was truly planned and how much was just a crazy case of throw it in. So, in that spirit, this story is actually about Loki, though we're seeing it through the eyes of Jane. And I can but imagine what all this is going to do to Thor, given Loki's apparent change of heart.

The opening of the gate hit her with all the force of a tsunami. She’d seen it coming – she’d worked too long to simply _not_ see it – but it still knocked her to the ground. There was some satisfaction in feeling a second body go down with her.

“Well,” Tony said, pushing to his feet with a wince, “it works.” She took the hand he offered, pulled herself upright, and then let go. She had more interesting things to hold, like her pen and her notebook; the data recorders would take care of themselves. She decided Tony was more than capable of the same, even as he came back to her side and said: “Er, now what?”

Jane simply stared. Her creation, stormborn though it was, appeared to have little in common with the Bifröst Thor had both descended and ascended by. It had birthed itself into something else entirely: a shimmering vortex hung in the air before her, an opened gateway into another place. Another world. Another _life_.

“I…” Words rasped like sandpaper against her throat, her heart a staccato beat. “…I think I can walk _around_ this.”

“Please don’t.” Erik’s voice crackled in her earpiece, both awed and disturbed; though only she and Tony stood in the eye of the storm, he presumably saw plenty through their mounted cameras. “Jane, it’s not stable enough. Don’t.”

“Agreed,” Tony said; though he didn’t wear the suit there was an odd and confident watchfulness to his stance as he craned his neck around and frowned at the apparent normality of the space behind the gate. “This is all a bit _House of Leaves_ for me.”

This time it was Darcy’s incredulous voice coming to them from what felt a thousand miles away. “You’ve read _House of Leaves_?”

“Shh, don’t tell Pepper. She’ll try to bully me into Jodi Picoult again if she knows I can.”

“What, read?”

“Guys.” Jane’s voice cracked. “Be quiet.”

Somewhat to her surprise – this _was_ Tony Stark and Darcy Lewis – they listened. Although it could simply be she had stopped listening to them; her entire world had narrowed to the peculiar shift and shimmer of the gate before her. Wide and oval, it could have been made of a kaleidoscopic liquid had it not hung suspended in midair. One hand reached forward, unintentional; it stopped just above the shifting surface, and she swallowed hard.

“Jane?”

“It’s okay, Erik,” she murmured, responding automatically to the paternal concern in his voice. She figured he’d know it was a lie. She simply had no idea what to do next. The gear, both that she had built herself and the new equipment she’d cobbled together with gifted Stark tech, would be generating the data she could refer back to later.

But she was in the now, and a deep yearning curiosity had her taking another step forward. Three, four more, and she would step through. Certainly it seemed stable enough in appearance. But that wasn’t it. Just because she’d traced it back along the paths of excitation that Thor’s most recent Bifröst had utilised, it didn’t mean it would go there. That she would go to Asgard.

She had to wait, and she knew that. The data recorders would be able to tell her if the gate she and the storm had opened moved along the same pathways as Asgard’s Bifröst. Yet the temptation hit her strong, wrapped about her brain and choked good sense to the point of death and beyond. She could do it now. She could be like the craziest princess of the craziest fairytale, and trust only to true love as she leapt out into the unknown.

 _But you’re not a princess_.

She swallowed hard. Even with Loki’s gift she could not be sure of what she had wrought. He’d implied he would make it better. Maybe he’d just made it worse. The words from Erik’s book danced before her eyes again in mocking parody of a neon sign, bright and blaring and broken.

_God of Mischief._

“Shit,” she whispered, and bit her lip. “ _Shit_.”

“Who are you?”

Shock rendered her rigid, her vocal chords so frozen she didn’t even have a chance to gasp, much less scream. Even Tony seemed dumbstruck, and he and Darcy had basically mastered the art of the unnecessary peanut gallery weeks ago.

Yet silence seemed the only answer to the peculiar question of what had appeared before them. The roiling colours of the gate had somehow both dimmed and brightened simultaneously, and as if through a veil Jane glimpsed a man – a tall man, if he could even be called something so mundane as _man_. Jane swallowed. Dark of skin and dressed in golden armour, he stood as still as any guardian statue before a temple or a shrine. A golden sword rested like an unmoveable pillar between his great hands, and when Jane dared step one foot closer she saw even his _eyes_ were gold.

Hope flared bright, even as something very close to terror threatened to steal away her voice entirely.

“Heimdall?”

For a moment he said nothing, and Jane’s heart twisted; perhaps she would see Tony’s suit in action after all. Then, in a thrumming deep bass like the sound of the old seas: “I am he.”

Though she had never been a religious person, Jane could not help but think of the Voice of God as she struggled to find her own. “Heimdall, my name is Jane Foster.” His unblinking eyes did not shift from hers. “I…I knew Thor. While he was on earth. …Midgard, I mean.”

“I know who you are, Lady Foster.”

Despite the flat intonation, there seemed no judgement in the words, only the statement of bald fact. She swallowed hard, went on. “Jane…Jane is fine.”

“He has been waiting for you, Lady Jane.” Inclining his head, sheathed in the shining helm of Asgard’s gatekeeper, he added: “I have summoned him.”

Her heart all but leapt from her chest, but she knew even without Erik’s input that it was too late. “I…I don’t think it’ll hold much longer.” The gate flickered about its edges, already growing ragged and peculiar. “But I can do it again, I’m sure. Please…I can do it again!”

“Then you shall be together again.”

“I know.” Her face hurt. She didn’t think human faces were made to smile this wide. “I know.”

Just like that it was over. The portal had vanished as suddenly as it had appeared; she didn’t know if Heimdall had encouraged its closure, or if it had simply collapsed under its own metaphysical weight. Somehow it didn’t seem to matter, not when she hadn’t even realised she’d been crying until she brushed at the hair hanging in her face and found her fingers came away wet with tears.

The stormclouds above were already clearing as Tony came back to her side. Looking up, she wondered if this was how gods felt, stealing potential energy from the sky before channelling through their own unholy devices. Then Darcy was running from the truck, jacket flapping about her knees; when she skidded to a halt before them, even in the cold desert air her cheeks held a high flush. Jane realised why as soon as she spoke.

“Hey, do you think _everyone_ on his world is hot?” She paused only long enough to sneeze. “Because they’ve all been hot. And bad-ass. _Really_ bad-ass.”

“Sounds like my kind of world.” Tony raked long fingers back through his dark hair, peered at the place where the gate had existed only moments before. “So is it too late to volunteer to be the space monkey who gets shot through that thing first?”

Jane wanted to laugh. She wanted to cry. Instead she crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a dubious look. “Sorry. We’re waiting for someone to come through it first.”

“Oh, you’re playing hard to get, making him do all the running around?” Again he stared at the place where reality had been so twisted for so short a time, and Jane was thinking of cats in boxes and impossible states of being even as he added: “I dunno about that, I’ve always been the kind of guy to make the first move.”

“Everyone knows how you like to move it, Tony.” Dropping to one knee before one of the generators, she looked back up with an arched eyebrow. “So help me move all this stuff back into the truck, would you?”

There must have seen something of her inner turmoil on her face as he actually kept his mouth shut. Still, that managed to be only the second miracle of the day. The third was that Darcy didn’t even record the conversation for later facebook posterity.

 

*****

 

“I don’t mean to sound like a jerk for pointing this out,” Tony said, “but you don’t seem that excited about this.”

Her fingers tightened about her fork. “Sorry.”

“Hey, you don’t need to apologise to me,” he added, pragmatic to a fault. “I mean, I know I’m stumping up for dinner, but it’s not like it was a huge dent in my weekly paycheck or anything.”

Jane almost managed to return the wry grin he gave her; take-out from the diner eaten up on the roof barely even blew her own far more volatile budget. With that said he had started to arrange to have some elaborate expensive meal flown in as a celebratory gesture. He’d then offered to get his suit out and see if the nearest Michelin starred restaurant offered a drive-through service. Jane had declined both, though she knew Darcy would murder her for the second. Her tumblr account was in dire need of more crazy Stark-based .gifs, she’d taken to claiming. She was still pissed she hadn’t been invited to dinner in the first place, though Jane wouldn’t have been at all surprised to find her lurking down below somewhere with a telescopic lens. She was practically a one-woman Stark paparazzo these days.

Fortunately Tony didn’t seem to care. In fact he seemed to enjoy it. Jane didn’t want to think too hard about that. As it was, after one conversation with Pepper Potts she had to wonder how the woman survived. Earmuffs, probably. Perhaps with liberal – and frequent – application of scotch.

Picking up her fork again, Jane poked at her fries. So close, and yet so far, they said. But she wasn’t far. Instead she was so close she could almost taste it. She could almost taste _him_ , that precious memory etched upon her brain: bright and shining and warm. And yet it sat so utterly at odds with her memory of the other: dark and deep and so very very cold. She swallowed hard, kept her eyes on her plate.

“It’s just…”

“You’re hot, Jane. You know that, right? Like, sizzling hot.” Even as her eyes widened, Tony took a casual slug of his Coke. “If your boyfriend didn’t have a hammer that can reputedly bring down a storm somewhere on the scale between _biblical_ and _bad-ass_ , I’d have insisted that I least take you two towns over to McDonalds, or something. You’re just _that hot_ , you know?”

She had to laugh, quiet as it turned out to be. “Never been a fan of McDonalds.”

“Fair enough. Go to sleep, those clowns’ll only eat you.” Setting the can aside, he gave a shrurg. “But seriously, Jane, don’t second-guess yourself now. There’s nothing useful in that. Just keep your eye on the game and play it out, then you can see if the prize is what you thought it was.”

“I know. It’s just…” Remembering the dark figure sent a shudder through her, like a warning tremor before the true seismic rupture. _Not worthy_ , he had said, and in one brief stroke he’d cut to the very heart of her deepest fear. When Thor had left her, his promise on his lips and the taste of him on hers, there had been no room for second guessing. Then, when the Bifröst had not reappeared, and in the dark nights as she worked to create her own way back, doubt had crept forth from the deepest corners of her mind.

And then _he_ had done the same, crawling out of the shadows to pour his venom into her trembling ear.

The worst of it was that Jane had never told anyone about him. The next morning, when the strong scent of the coffee Erik had placed on her desk woke her, she’d figured it all for a dream. Very pointedly she’d not looked at anything scattered upon her desk, had gone to lay claim to some pancakes before Darcy scoffed the lot.

Reality had kicked her hard in the gut the moment she’d sat down before her desk again. The notebook had been laid open, Loki’s so-called gift a mocking memory brought to life. The looped and sprawling letters had tangled up her thoughts into tight snarls of uncertainty in mere seconds, their very existence reminding her that she was not as they were.

“Jane?” Tony’s voice resonated with deep and sudden concern. “Something wrong?”

Casting him a wan smile, she was struck by the strength of her urge to tell him. She’d lost so many hours of her life lying in her trailer’s small bed, staring at the thin ceiling wondering how she could be so irresponsible, so selfish, so _stupid_.

But then, she whispered to herself, it wasn’t as if she’d seen Thor’s brother again in the two weeks since his unexpected visit. And she hadn’t heard anything to suggest he was living up to the epithet he’d been given as a member of the Norse pantheon. Then again, she supposed she wouldn’t know. SHIELD had officially named her a consultant, though sometimes she got the slightest impression “pet project” might have been a better moniker.

“Formerly of NASA,” she muttered, and Tony frowned.

“You should take a break.”

With a sigh, Jane pushed away her mostly-untouched plate. “I’m not good with breaks. I always just sit around thinking about my work.”

“Yeah, I get that too.” Tony snagged the untouched half of her burger, took a contemplative mouthful. “You know what, maybe you should just go play _Robot Unicorn Attack_ for a while. Honestly, how that damn works, I don’t know, but it _works_. Tranquilises the brain like no-one’s business. And it’s totally my business.”

Jane had to think that cheap flash games could hardly be something Tony Stark would just stumble across during a random surf of the ‘net. “Darcy?”

“Yup. Darcy.” He grimaced, opened the burger, and tossed two slices of gerkin back onto Jane’s plate. “I probably owe her some sort of old-school smiting for introducing me to the damn thing, not that I need pictures of that on facebook. Although I’m pretty sure there’s already a group on facebook for all the lives I’ve ruined.”

Despite the weight of her thoughts, Jane had to smile. “Really?”

“Yeah, Pepper pointed it out to me. There’s even a bird that’s a member.” But before she could laugh, he shook his head, put down the remnants of her dinner. “Jane, the next decent storm’s not going to be for at least a week, you said. _Take a break_. Crazy robot unicorns or whatever. And you have to admit there’s probably no better soundtrack for trying to recreate a crazy-ass rainbow bridge than bad eighties pop synth.” He paused in reaching for the donuts. “Well, except maybe Nyan Cat or _Rainbow Brite_ or something.”

“You know the theme song to _Rainbow Brite_?”

Tony blinked at her. “I’m a very complicated man.”

This time she didn’t hold in the laugh as she looked up to the stars. She really did have a knack for running into men of that type these days.

 

*****

 

“Lady Jane!”

No other man had called her that, not in that way. She had the feeling that even if any ever tried it just wouldn’t be the same. Then it didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered. His arms were around her, the bulk and warmth and the scent and the presence and the _man_ almost exactly as she remembered. Fear and uncertainty evaporated even as the portal he’d stumbled through did the same. She paid it no heed. She knew she’d been tense, the weight of weeks heavy upon her mind, but she didn’t realise how so until she felt herself relax utterly in his embrace.

Curved around her like a seashell, face pressed against her cheek and into her hair, he whispered his true greeting. “I have missed you.”

“Me, too.”

“But I knew that you would do it.” When he leaned back, hands spanned about her waist, his bright eyes were only exceeded by the blaze of his smile. “You are brilliant.”

She was up on her toes even before he leaned down to press his lips to hers. Melting into the kiss, into his warm wide familiar bulk, Jane closed her eyes and sighed. So many dreams to catch up on, dreamt over and over all the nights after he had left. Even before that one night. Before—

She closed her eyes tighter. There was no need to think of such things, not now. This was her moment, _their_ moment. Not his. He was her Thor. _Hers_.

That pesky need for air to breathe was what finally had her pulling back; it struck her as she did so that she actually had no idea if Thor needed the same. Peculiar as the unsettling thought was, she forgot it a moment later. The sound of clapping behind her spun her right round, a high flush on her cheeks as she went to tell Darcy to shove it. But her assistant had a partner in crime. Her lips pursed as she stared at Tony, who only grinned wider and dropped a wink. Then – god help her – he opened his mouth.

“I always did love a good soppy reunion of star-crossed lovers.” Immediately his hands snapped upward in a defensive gesture. “Don’t tell Pepper. _God_ , please don’t tell Pepper.”

Thor’s arm still wound about her waist; even as she laughed at Tony’s expression it tightened, drew her closer.

“Who is this?”

Only a very sharp look kept Tony from answering that for himself, though Jane had no doubt he’d elaborate all too happily on anything she offered up first. Resigned, she said: “Thor, this is Tony.”

His eyes narrowed as he took in the sharp lines of even Tony’s workshirt and jeans. “He is…a warrior?”

“Consultant,” he corrected, cheerful enough. “Or that’s what they put on the business cards. I actually wanted _Genius Playboy Billion_ —”

“Tony, just shut up.” She wanted to laugh again. She wanted to cry again. And she felt she might have fallen if not for the solid presence of Thor at her side. Curling her fingers tight about his arm, fingers digging into the mail of his sleeves, she realised he did not appear to even notice she had done so. For not the first time she wondered at the limits of his strength, even as Thor’s gaze moved speculatively between her and Tony.

“He aided you?”

“Helped pay for it, mostly,” she said, and before Tony could make a smart-ass remark about flagitious abuse of all-night ATMs added: “He’s a good guy, Thor.” Then she paused, considered further. “Well, he’s not a _bad_ guy.”

“Hey!”

Tony didn’t have much of a chance to say anything else; Coulson had obviously caught enough of the goings-on to leave the SHIELD trailer and join them. As he strode closer Jane checked a sigh. She’d known that she wouldn’t be able to keep him to herself, but it still grated when the agent walked straight up to Thor with clear business in every step. Thor blinked, struck first.

“Son of Coul.”

Something flickered across his face, like he was thinking of complaining. It disappeared as quickly as it came. Jane really did wonder if that was a side effect of working with Tony Stark, or just something that happened when your day job involved supervillains and unexpected alien tech in the middle of the New Mexico desert.

“Good to see you again,” he said instead, and raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to stay put for the debriefing this time, or have you got some more urgent flying to do?”

“Whoa, way to kill the epic romance, Phil.”

“Tony,” Jane warned and he snorted.

“You know, you sound more like Pepper by the minute,” Tony observed, and crossed his arms over his chest. “And I think that’s a compliment, but—”

Coulson looked like he needed Motrin, even as held a hand up for silence. “Stark. Let the grown-ups talk for a minute, please.”

“Yes, Dad,” he said, prompt enough – then his eyes gleamed. “Or do you prefer _Daddy_?”

This time Coulson ignored him and focused entirely upon Thor. Jane didn’t quite like the sensation of that; it felt almost like he’d shut her out now that he had what he wanted. “Thor, I need some confirmation about the status of the incident with the machine that attacked the Puente Antiguo.”

At first he looked startled – then, his eyes narrowed. “Is the situation not resolved? How fare the townspeople?”

“As…well as they might be expected to, I suppose. That’s not my key concern.” A deep furrow bisected Thor’s brow, though Coulson went on undaunted. “How likely is it to happen again?”

“Entirely unlikely.” The flatness of his words matched the desert stretching out all around them. “On that you may have my word.”

“With what evidence?”

Thor’s expression darkened, though Coulson made no attempt to back down. In fact he himself began to frown, and as the silence stretched on Jane felt her skin begin to crawl. Then Tony flicked his eyes between the two and raised his eyebrows. “Wow, and I thought I was the only one who ever got Phil to make that face.”

Jane smothered the very inappropriate urge to laugh at the way Coulson’s expression only deepened further in a perfect rendition of _Angry Man Having Angry Thoughts About Angry Things_. Yet she was glad she had; it helped her to quell a quiet rising sense of hysteria. She had the distinct impression that if she started laughing now, she probably wouldn’t be able to stop.

“I need to talk to Thor,” she said, sudden and strange. “Alone.”

Coulson’s blink was outpaced by Tony’s lightning-quick smirk. “You move fast,” he said, approving. “Girl after my own heart!”

“I don’t want your heart.”

Thor’s contribution was both flat and warning. “I am glad to hear it.”

Tony’s eyes flicked down, as if it were the first time he’d really looked at Mjölnir. Not that Jane believed that. Boys were boys; he’d probably been checking out the hardware from the second Thor had arrived. Still, it appeared to have given him some pause, for he said easily: “Yeah, actually, so am I.” Looking away again, he grinned wide to see the SHIELD agent’s face. “Hey, Coulson, what’s say you and I go troll Fury, tell him Natasha took Clint to the arcade and now mall management want to have a word about the live ammunition in the Pac-Man machine?”

Coulson only stared.

“I mean, they were ghosts. They were _already_ dead. What kind of master marksman can’t tell if his target dead or not?”

“I’m quite sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said finally, slowly. Tony gave him a companionable slap on the shoulder.

“It’s okay, you never do.” And now he slung an arm about those shoulders too; even as Coulson shrugged it off with curt economy he didn’t lose his easy tone. “But even you have to admit they need a minute, yeah?”

Coulson looked to have no intention of admitting any such thing; it was Thor himself who spoke.

“If you are concerned for the safety of your realm, do not be.” His hand moved, fingertips lightly brushing the handle of the hammer at his side. “The gateway has closed behind me, but even so Heimdall watches all. I am the only one to have passed between the realms this night.” His blue eyes were unyielding, those of a man used to being obeyed. “Though I would be glad to aide you in your endeavours, son of Coul, I would have some time to speak with the one who made it possible for me to be here at all.”

Again, his arm tightened about her, pulling her closer into the firm musculature of his side. Coulson gave her a look that suggested he’d forgotten she even existed, and then his eyes skipped to the site of the now closed Einstein-Rosen bridge. His lips thinned. “Ten minutes.”

“Phil. Come _on_.”

The look Coulson gave Tony suggested many painful assignments to come. “Half an hour.”

“Better.” Brushing off his hands on his thighs, Tony cocked his head and gave the agent a distinctly pitying look. “I need to meet your wife, you know that, Coulson? Because I think the poor girl needs someone to remind her that she deserves more romance in her life.”

Coulson smiled, pleasant and low. “You go near my wife, Stark, and that…” – he cast about the site with a trained eye – “…antenna will be so far up your nose your hypothalamus will start receiving Jazz FM.”

“Did I never tell you Iron Man’s gone digital?” Coulson’s eyebrow raised, and again Tony threw up his hands in a defensive gesture. “Okay, okay. Fine. I need a drink.”

“ _You_ need a drink?”

From the tone of both their voices, it sounded like the bickering was gearing up rather than down. Jane had already turned away, Thor a warm ever-presence at her side. As they began the walk back to the truck a voice raised behind them: Coulson, shouting something about a rendezvous checkpoint back in town that she barely heard.

The greetings between Erik and Darcy and Thor were loud and easy and involved much girlish giggling (Darcy) and plenty of manly slaps-on-the-back (Erik and Thor; Erik looked almost to have slipped a disc after one particularly enthusiastic example from the Asgardian). The chatter only continued as they drove back into town. Warm again, leaning against his side, Jane stayed quiet and let it wash over her like the rain the desert so rarely saw. The sleek presence of almost unseen black cars in the shadows before and behind them should have been a comfort, too, though Jane felt them to be quite the opposite. Even though various SHIELD operatives had been around her since Thor’s departure, she had felt safer with just Tony as her protector. She found that somewhat ironic given that so far she’d seen him parry more with words than with Stark weapon tech.

Then she decided it wasn’t as if it mattered. Thor was posing for a profile pic for a facebook Darcy seemed intent on setting up for him, but his hand rested light over hers – a constant reminder of his return. He even helped her down from the truck when Erik pulled up before her trailer, as if it were a horse and she his lady love. A hand from the inside pulled the door shut, and then Darcy radiated warmth over them like a leering jack-o-lantern.

“We won’t wait up.”

“Thanks, Darcy.” And though she’d aimed for sarcastic and hit the target square on, she was glad the poor lighting hid the flush crawling up her cheeks.

Inside the trailer, the world narrowed; they could barely move without bumping elbows, knees, hips. It seemed impossible that she’d forgotten how big he was. But even if he hadn’t been an impressive physical specimen – and she felt her stomach flip-flop as she remembered again just _how_ impressive – he would have taken up half the room anyway. Few people were born with such charisma; Thor appeared to have been born with enough for a dozen such people and more.

His brother had been just the same.

Some of her giddy pleasure drained away, and she sat down heavily on the bed. Thor gave her a curious look. “Jane?”

“I…come and sit with me, for a sec.”

Though he was a man accustomed to giving commands rather than taking them, he did so with an easy grace that made her smile. It should have looked and felt ridiculous: the huge man in his royal armour, a huge hammer on his belt, cape everywhere and all over everything, sitting beside her on the tiny bed. As if thinking the same thing he unlooped Mjölnir, set it reverently aside before looking back to her.

A long moment hung between them, sweet and silent. There was nothing awkward in it; they simply had no need of words. His large hands moved upward to cup her face. Then: he leaned forward. Every movement he made was gentle, respectful, as if he were afraid she might break.

She didn’t want to break. She wanted to be whole again.

Without second thought Jane threw herself forward. The scent of him burned, rich and strong as she pressed her lips to his lips, his cheek, his brow, his jaw, his throat. Powerful arms moved about her, one hand upon her waist, another moving to cup the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair. She wanted this. She wanted all of it. Wanted _him_. Always and only him.

_Tell me, Ms. Foster – how did my brother taste?_

_Like sunlight,_ she thought. _Sunlight and starshine and the thunder of the gods compressed into one perfect moment, one perfect memory._

He still tasted the same. But somehow, Jane thought she tasted different.

“Thor,” she whispered. “Stop.”

He didn’t.

“ _Thor_.”

Only when she braced her hands against his broad chest and pushed back did he take her meaning; pulling back, his eyes shone with bright confusion. “Is something the matter?” Then his eyes widened. “Forgive me, Jane, I had thought—”

“You thought right,” she said, hurried, flushed; adjusting the collar of her shirt, she bit her lip. “You thought _very_ right, it’s just…” She bit down harder, remembered the taste of her own blood on his brother’s lips. “…the Bifröst.”

“What about the Bifröst?” Thor’s expression flickered. “It has been broken beyond repair, which is the reason why I could not return to you. I—”

“No, it’s not that. Not exactly.”

“Then what is it?”

For a long, terrible moment she didn’t know where to begin. She didn’t even know _how_ to begin. Taking a deep breath, she looked down at her hands and saw they’d tangled so tightly together she had no idea how she’d ever pull them apart again. In the end she supposed there was really only one thing to say.

“It’s about your brother.”

The great body stiffened, and she winced as she looked up again. It was already entirely too late; he’d moved back, though both bed and trailer were so small that his bulk could not go far. She still felt as if a vast chasm had opened between them even before he spoke.

“My brother is dead.”

The words cut through her, but the bright blade of grief he turned upon himself went far deeper. Already he had turned his face from her, curling in upon himself. Though he would always be a large man, as his shoulders hunched forward and his head bowed low, he suddenly appeared very much smaller. She wanted to stop. Only the knowledge that she hadn’t been the one to start it moved the words around the lump in her throat.

“What happened?”

At first she thought he wasn’t actually going to answer. Despite the sharp lines and drooping curves of misery that his body formed, his sorrow seemed a private thing that he could not share. It hurt, though she supposed she couldn’t blame him; for all the intensity of their relationship, they’d only known each other for a matter of days. It couldn’t possibly help that as far as he knew, she’d never known his brother at all.

“Thor.” Bridging the distance between them, she laid a shaking hand over the dreadful stillness of one of his. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.”

“It was terrible.” As he looked up, he placed his other hand over hers, and she did the same. But it was the blue eyes that caught and held hers so. The sorrow there now was fresh, but with it came the memory of how he had looked after he’d been unable to lift Mjölnir, when his brother had lied to him about their father and placed the final nail in the coffin that had conveyed him to his exile. He blinked, rapid and helpless, and then sighed. “Jane, I…I am sorry. I don’t like to talk about it.”

She hated herself for pushing him this way, didn’t know if it made any difference that someone else had pushed her first. “I just need you to answer me one question. Please.”

“If I can, you may trust that I will.”

“Did you see him die?”

His flinch felt like a condemnation, as if she’d reached out with a closed fist and struck him hard across the face. When she closed her hands tighter around his she found them cold as ice; his words had a childish quality, almost pleading.

“What do you mean?”

“Please, Thor.”

Her disgust with herself only grew as he closed his eyes, a silver coursing of tears leaking forth from their scrunched up corners. “He fell.”

The road to hell always had been paved with good intentions. It was just that Jane felt she was already there. “Fell where?”

“From the rainbow bridge.” He shook his head, hair snapping back and forth like a tattered warbanner. “Please, Jane, I cannot.”

She closed her own eyes. “He’s not dead.”

In a rapid reversal his hands closed so tightly on hers she shrieked, tried to pull back. When her eyes flew open she found Thor very close to her, the intensity of both his eyes and his grip holding her motionless. Even as tears of sudden pain sprung to her own eyes, she didn’t think he realised his own strength, or what he was doing to her.

“What do you mean?” he demanded. “Jane, what are you telling me?”

“Thor, please.” The bones of her fingers ground together, and she grit her teeth. “Thor, you’re _hurting_ me!”

At first her words had no meaning to him, as if she spoke a language he had never thought to understand. A second later, dreadful realisation flooded through him and he let go as if contact with her burned. Jane raised her hands, half-numb and hurting still; she had to think that thankfully she was not in the habit of wearing jewellery. Despite that she knew they’d be bruised black and blue later.

“Jane.” She looked up, stared directly into his remorse. “Jane, I am so sorry.”

“It’s…it’s okay.” She smiled, even though the ache in her hands only grew as circulation returned. She didn’t have any decent amount of ice or even frozen vegetables in the trailer’s tiny icebox to make it worth finding something for her hand. “I know it must be a shock to you.”

“How do you even know this? He has been here?” Her silence seemed answer enough; his half-bewildered joy turned to flat inquiry. “Did he harm you?”

The press of Loki’s cold lips came back to her with all the strength of memories that defied any suppression. Accompanying it was the ghost of his weight pressed against her trembling body, and the sorcery that had moved beneath his skin. “No,” she said, soft; her hand twitched at the involuntary memory of the weight of the geode, how it had felt when it had crashed against the side of his head. “No, he didn’t, he just…”

“What did he want from you?”

She licked her lips, almost expecting the taste of dry ice. “He wanted me to open the Einstein-Rosen bridge.” Her voice cracked on the last word; she had to swallow twice before she could go on. “He wanted to see you again.”

When Thor sat back, he was clearly too stunned to hid his joy. That hurt. But that pleasure warred with other emotions, and that frightened her more. His other feelings were too quick, too kaleidoscopic to be read with any accuracy. But there was certainly fear there. And anger. And most terrifyingly a kind of _helplessness_ that was so utterly at odds with the Thor she had last seen, dressed in armour with Mjölnir to hand once more. A shiver crawled down her spine; his expression now reminded her of Erik’s quiet description of when he’d found him at the government site.

 _Scary, to see a man like that_ , he’d said, staring up at the sky Jane hoped to crack open once more. _So big, so strong, and yet…he’d been an empty vessel. There was nothing there. No purpose, no identity…no hope._

“I don’t know where he is now,” she whispered, both desperately glad and yet so very miserable. “I’m sorry.”

“I…” Only with great effort did he compose himself, though she could see how his fingers twitched upon his knees. “Jane, are you truly sure that it was him?”

“I…well, I can’t be sure. I only know him from what you’ve told me.” _And you told me yourself he is a trickster, a shape-shifter._ “But he knew about you.” Again she paused; she knew her next words would sound as an accusation no matter how they were spoken. “He said you’d destroyed the Bifröst’s bridge.”

Again he flinched. “I had to do it,” he murmured, and then he looked up. Sorrow flickered through his eyes, but something like defiance lurked deeper beneath. “I did not want to. But I believed you would do all you could to open it from your end. I had to believe that. It was the only way.”

“I understand,” she said, soft; he shook his head, expression troubled.

“No, I should tell you how it was.”

She had no wish to argue that; after all that had happened that night in her lab, she doubted it could be any other way. But still it hurt, because it so very obviously hurt him. Even though he said he would tell her, had lapsed again into silence. Eyes fixed upon a distant place – a distant star, perhaps. That sensation of space between them amplified again. Jane swallowed hard. “He said he wasn’t really your brother.”

Again, it was like she’d struck him – this time both hard in the gut and high in the heart. For a long moment he stared at her like she had become an utter stranger. Then, his mouth twisted into a grimace. “It really was him.”

She could take no offence at the assumption she might have lied. She merely nodded. “It was him.”

For a long moment Thor stared at his hands. Empty of Mjölnir, the hammer itself sat quiescent and still, almost discarded to one side. “It is the truth,” he said, finally, “though only in matters of blood. By any other measure, Loki is and always will remain my brother.”

 _He still loves you_. Jane herself had told him that. Therefore she felt no surprise that Thor would confirm it, much as it sat in her stomach like a ball of lead. Seated still at his side, she moved closer, settled a hand upon his shoulder. Though some part of her wished it wasn’t so, the better parts knew that it was but one reason why he had such a hold over her. That too-large heart had so much room inside of it. In that moment she wanted nothing so much as to be inside of it too. If only to hold it together, to stop it breaking from within.

“I think that so much of what he did was because of that,” he said finally, dreadfully quiet and still. “Loki was always a trickster, you must understand. We all knew that. In the case of many, it made them…uneasy. They didn’t understand why he would choose such a path. But he was my brother. It was just how he was.”

“How he is.”

“How he is,” he murmured, the echo of her correction as soft as the expulsion of a held breath. “I don’t even know how I ought to begin.”

“At the start usually works.” He gave her a slanted sideways look, and she felt the edge of tears about her smile “But any way you want, it’s okay by me.”

In the end the beginning was more or less where he started, though the tale came in halting statements. He told her of how he’d returned to Asgard to find that Loki had killed the Jotun king threatening his father – but that Loki had been the one to let him in, leaving Heimdall half-killed by the power of the casket he’d taken from the vaults. Then, there had been the later revelation that this was not the first time Loki had brought the Jotun to Asgard. Jane frowned, unable to quite make sense of Loki’s actions; it only became worse when Thor reluctantly related the final battle in the observatory, with the frozen threads of Jotunheim’s destruction rising all around them both like a perverse echo of Yggdrasil itself.

“But he didn’t want the throne.” Thor spoke as if he didn’t quite believe himself, even as he gave the his statement greater force with each word. “Mother even said later Loki appeared a devastated child when they brought him Gungnir.”

Jane’s brow furrowed. “Could he have been pretending?”

“ _You are incapable of sincerity_.” The words passed through Jane like an electric shock; Thor stared at his hands, unmoving. “I said this to him, before my oath-taking.” When he looked up again, he was both resigned and confused, like a puppy whose master has inexplicably shut him out in the rain. “This was the time when he permitted the first frost giants to enter Asgard, those that made the first attempt on the Casket of Ancient Winters.”

She answered with a simple nod. He’d told her this story the night he’d drawn her Yggdrasil, though it admittedly held a different flavour now she knew Loki had been the one to goad Thor into taking the battle to Jotunheim in the first place.

“Is he?” Thor gave her an odd look, and she grimaced. “Incapable of sincerity, I mean.”

“No.” One word flashed across Jane’s mind: _Fool_. Loki himself had called him that. Her heart ached, even as he shook his head, went doggedly onward as if his belief alone could retrieve his brother from the brink of a madness he’d already plunged headlong over. “He said something else to me that day.”

“What?”

“ _Never doubt that I love you_.” This time the words froze Jane; she had no idea how Thor had done it, but for a moment it had seemed to her as if Loki had been there, between them, whispering the words himself. Then Thor went on, and the illusion was gone as swiftly as it had come. “He even admitted he could sometimes be jealous, but…he spoke the truth. I am sure of it.”

In a terrible way, so was she. “I guess it was a huge shock, to him. To find out he was adopted.”

“It explained many things,” he admitted, for all he clearly did not want to. “But they loved him. Mother and Father. They loved him no matter what he was.”

A hint of something pleading bled through his words, though she suspected it was not directed at her at all. She frowned. “Loki thought they didn’t?”

The pain etched onto his face went far deeper than his skin. “Maybe he was of the belief they _couldn’t_.” Jane opened her mouth to ask why, then stopped; she could already see something odd in his eyes, a kind of incredulous sheen like he couldn’t imagine the truth of what he saw in his mind. “Loki is Jotun.”

The words struck her as so ridiculous at first she could not process them. Then: “A…frost giant?” she asked, faltering as her mind tried to process the implications only to fail utterly. He’d been tall, certainly – and so very cold to the touch. But Thor’s bombast in his story-telling all those nights ago seemed to have included a description of a Jotun warrior: big. Muscular. _Blue_.

“But he looks like you,” she whispered.

“Father called it a glamour so innate even Loki didn’t recognise its presence.” Despite the deepening lines of misery in his handsome face, Jane caught the faintest flicker of amusement. “Oh, how that must have annoyed him! Even with everything else, he would have hated to think there was something magical that had escaped his notice, especially something so very close to him.”

“Neither of you ever suspected?”

All humour fled from him now. “No.” For all it was a single word, it felt heavy with the unspoken memory of years. He sighed, and they spilled from him like a broken dam. “But he was always…different, shall we say?”

“Seid.”

His voice sharpened. “What?”

“He called it seid. I think…he meant sorcery.” Under Thor’s flinty regard, Jane squirmed. “He’s a sorcerer, your brother?”

“Oh, yes.” She’d gathered as much from his earlier tales, and from Loki himself, but Thor’s discomfort spoke volumes more. “It’s…not a usual occupation, for an Asgardian warrior.”

“He said it was a woman’s work.”

“I…” Passing a hand back through his hair, Thor looked pained. “…yes. Perhaps. Yes, it is.” Straightening, he looked directly at her. “He could fight. Never doubt that. But…”

Her eyes wandered to Mjölnir. “Not like you?”

“There is no-one else like me.” Yet his conceit disappeared as quickly as it had come. “But…when I consider the past now, he used to come with us, when we went hunting. Volstagg, Hogun, Sif, Fandral and me. But not always. And later, not even often.” His shoulders slumped. “Perhaps there were times we did not even think to invite him.”

To that Jane had nothing to say. All she could do was wrap her hands about his again and ignore the pain of her bruised fingers.

“I always used to think that was why he indulged in seid. Men do have the ability, often enough. They just choose to strengthen their sword arm instead.” He looked down at his own right hand, flexed the fingers towards the palm in slow contemplation. “Loki chose the other way.”

“It was easier for him?”

“He was magnificent at it.” The true tragedy of it, Jane thought, was that his bafflement was equally matched by his pride. “That was really why he did it. And why Father always allowed it. If he hadn’t been so very clever…” His voice trailed off, became very small for all he was such a very large man. “I spent so much time teasing him about it. But the truth is that I liked it that way.”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t need another brother-in-arms. Not when I had the constant company of Lady Sif and the Warriors Three.” An involuntary smile crossed her face, and Jane felt an echo of it; she’d known the four only briefly, but she could see why Thor loved them so. Then, it faded. “Loki was forever inclined towards thought, not action. I often would think that was the reason behind his games and his tricks – he was always testing things, seeing how they worked.” He stopped, and then snorted. “Well, this is when I bothered to ever _think_ about what he was doing. You must not give me too much credit on that front.”

Again, Jane could not help the smile that bloomed upon her face. “You’re perfect just the way you are,” she whispered. He looked to her again, a smile upon his own features. His fingers wound through hers, gentle as he might be with a baby bird. Yet, even bathed in the warmth, a sudden cold descended upon her, a shiver rocking her body. Thor frowned.

“Jane?”

“I…it’s nothing.” And it was gone as quickly as it had come.  “So Loki never fit in even before he knew?”

Unhappiness bowed his back again. “I was a fool.” One hand slapped down on a muscular thigh. “I look back now, and…that day, when we went into Jotunheim. He hadn’t intended to come with us.”

“That’s not weird, surely. Why would he have wanted to?”

“My brother is not a coward.” Jane blinked at his sharpness, but he’d forgotten it as soon as he’d spoken; brows furrowed, caught up in sudden remembrance. “I just assumed he would. Because he was my brother. But he was so surprised.” He both shook and nodded his head in quick succession, the realisation coming hard. “He thought I wouldn’t ask him to come. Because he wasn’t a warrior. Because he didn’t have a place at my side as such.”

She stared at him. The cold had returned, settling over her shoulders like a shroud.

“And that was how he found out.” He let out a shuddering breath, fingers digging into his thighs. “Heimdall said as much later. He came to Jotunheim because he was my brother, and he left with that belief taken from him.” Hunched over now, his entire body was a bowstring of misery loaded with an arrow aimed at his own heart. “And I was only concerned with myself, with my need for vengeance and for glory.” Now he sagged, words a bare whisper. “I did not even notice.”

“Thor.”

“I have wronged him.”

She shook her head, hands tight on his. “He wronged _you_.”

“We wronged each other.” When he looked at her, the hope shining in his eyes was enough to make her want to sob aloud. “I would give much to set things right between us.”

“Maybe that’s what he wants, too.” She forced the words, even as she forced the memory of Loki’s burning green gaze away. “You can go back. It can’t be the way it was, maybe. But you can make it better.”

“Perhaps.” He nodded, that hope dimming again. “It is difficult for me to believe it even now.”

“That he’s here?”

“That he is Jotun.” He let out a slow breath, drew in another. “Both Father and Heimdall said that when he comes into contact with others, or with the Casket, like calls to like.” Slowly his head moved back and forth. “He never showed himself in that way to me.”

“Maybe he was ashamed.”

“Why?” Again, he seemed by puzzled by his brother’s betrayal that all Jane wished to do was hold him close and whisper that it would all be all right. “I care not for his physical appearance. He is my brother.”

“I am not your brother.”

Jane couldn’t suppress the shriek that erupted from deep in her abdomen, scooting back on the bed until her back banged painfully against the window. Thor stood so quickly he struck his head on the ceiling. He barely acknowledged it, focusing instead on the figure who had appeared as if from nowhere.

“Brother.”

The raw whisper brought only disgust to the refined features of the man at the other end of her trailer. “Honestly, Thor. How many times?” A mocking eyebrow rose high. “Or do you really need to see it to believe it?”

He waited for no answer. The creeping colour already crawled over his skin, moving up from his high Asgardian collar to taint and change his skin before their very eyes. Jane bit down on a gasp; not only was his skin a dreadful cyanotic shade, keloids rose over the skin in sweeping curving patterns, and his eyes…his clever watchful _once green_ eyes…

“Loki.” Thor’s hands opened and closed, but Mjölnir remained untouched. “Oh, _Loki_.”

The bitter sound that escaped his mouth was too distended by self-loathing to ever be termed a laugh. “And you wonder why I didn’t show it to you back in Asgard?” The changed eyes flicked to Jane, cutting and cruel. “Shame. _Shame_.” Then he dismissed her utterly, devoting the full force of himself towards Thor alone. His voice dropped half an octave, rough and raw and bleeding. “I know you, Thor. I know what you think of my kind.”

“Loki, don’t do this.”

“Why did you stop me?” The hands, blue and shaking, curved into dark fists. “You wanted to kill us all once.”

“We have had this conversation before.”

“And it ended so very well, didn’t it.” One elegant hand slashed before him, ending the debate before it had even begun. Then, it pointed at the hammer. “Do it.”

Thor’s wide eyes might have been comical under any other conditions. “Do what?”

“End this. End it all. End _me_.” He took a step forward, voice lowering almost to the persuasive murmur of a lover. “You know you want to.”

Terror choked Jane, held her still even as she remained at Thor’s side. She wanted so badly to reach for him, but even as her aching fingers twitched she could not bring herself to do it. Yet she had no idea what else to do. Her mobile was in her pocket, of course, but it wasn’t like she thought Tony Stark or Phil Coulson were going to be able to provide emergency psychiatric services for a deranged pseudo-Norse god. Even Darcy might do a better job at that than both of them put together. But then Darcy didn’t have a perfectly improbable suit of armour to protect her from the wrath of said god.

As if reading her thoughts, though his attention had fixed upon Thor alone, Loki spoke. “I am the monster you spent your entire life wanting to rid the Nine Realms of.” His words were soft, but the red eyes burned. “Why do you hesitate now?”

“You are my brother!”

Loki did not even bother with any further words. Instead he chose a gleaming, glowing casket; it appeared between his hands as if unfolding from the very air itself. Its physical facade seemed almost as impossible as the manner of its appearance, with preternatural blue light roiling within darkly patterned crystal. For a second Jane looked into its depths and thought that it was crying. Then she wondered if that was just her own heart breaking.

Or perhaps it was only his.

“ _Loki_.”

Thor’s single low-spoken word, a simple plea, brought a smile to Loki’s blue lips. There was not one shred of humour remaining to it. “I’m waiting.” The casket gleamed. “But I won’t wait forever. Will you really make me do it myself? _Again_?”

Thor groaned, a terrible sound like a dying animal whose heart had been pressed into the ground by the hunter’s boot. Jane shuddered, and despite Thor’s agony she felt the tiny hairs of her skin begin to rise, to crackle with growing static. The air between the brothers was charged with more than just emotion, and she could not stand still. Even knowing she was not as they were, she could not let Thor face this alone. Her hand reached out, and the door to the caravan opened.

All three turned, almost as one. But Tony wasn’t actually looking at any of them. Instead he had his eyes to the ground, sunglasses pushing his hair back wildly; he kept his back pressed to the door he’d closed as quickly as he’d opened it.

“Look, guys, I don’t want to be a pervert and interrupt anything – although let’s be honest, I totally _am_ a pervert – it’s just that Coulson’s had Fury on the line and—” The words froze on his lips the second he stopped long enough to actually take in his surroundings. “Huh. You guys never told me you knew Violet Beauregarde.”

Thor’s hand shot out. “Loki, _no_!”

It was entirely too late. This time when Tony went through the door of the trailer, it was completely without the benefit of anyone opening it for him first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I apologise for being a n00b, particularly if anyone seems particularly OOC. I suppose we'll just have to wait and see what happens next. But if you got this far -- thank you so much for reading. I'm so new to this fandom that I really have no idea what I'm doing. ^_~


	3. Letters From The Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony drinks, Jane frets, Coulson doesn't get paid enough for this shit, and Thor is left once again wondering just what on Asgard is wrong with his baby brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, while I was drafting this and the fourth chapter A WILD PLOT APPEARED! Not that it's really obvious here; I'm still in the set-up stages. But I actually think I know where this is going now, which may or may not be good news. I think we're looking at maybe ten chapters. But...we'll see how _that_ works out, shall we...?

Jane sat back, watched critically as he adjusted the icepack held to the back of his head. Concern still bled through her attempt at a composed bedside manner. “Tony, are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine…could’ve been worse.” Seated at the table he pulled the compress back, winced, then pushed it down again. “I mean, I could’ve called him an Oompa-Loompa.”

She wanted to smile. But the memory of how he’d looked, sprawled across the ground with his eyes unfocused and his body motionless, had hit her almost as hard as Loki had him. Even knowing that he did this sort of stuff quite voluntarily on a regular basis didn’t help; he hadn’t been wearing his suit, after all. Biting her lip, she tried to remind herself of how quickly he’d gotten up. It didn’t much help.

“Seriously, Tony…are you _really_ sure you’re all right?”

“Yeah, yeah. Believe you me, it’s just something else for Pepper to lecture me about later. …caravan diving. Kind of like stage diving, only slightly less voluntary. And with no groupies.” Mournful now, Tony looked down at the table and shook his head. “There should have been groupies.”

Thor, standing some way across the room and leaning against a bank of screens, gave Jane a raised eyebrow. “I am not sure I have any idea what he’s talking about.”

Sitting someway down the table from Tony, Coulson just rolled his eyes. “You get used to that.”

“Really?” Jane asked, and he snorted.

“No.” Taking out a tablet and flicking its stylus free, he gave them all a round look that rather reminded Jane of the day she’d defended her thesis. She’d never felt less prepared for anything, even before he said, “Are we ready to discuss this now?”

In the end she didn’t think Thor ever would be, particularly not with complete strangers. The fact that he remained utterly silent only compounded that; he’d in fact had very little to say since Jane had launched herself from the trailer in Tony’s wake. Jane herself hadn’t seen Loki disappear, but no-one had seen him since. Back in her lab, Coulson had proved supremely unimpressed by the turn of events. Not that that bothered Jane; Coulson had probably been unimpressed by Santa even at the age of three.

What concerned her was Thor, and the strange distance his brother’s reappearance had wrought in him. He held himself apart from even her. Every bone in her body ached to stand, to go to him and remain at his side – but then Tony started to shake his head, grimaced, and gave up.

“Can I just start this by saying it totally wasn’t my fault?”

“Oh, come on.” Despite the half-grin she spared him, Jane still felt like a tattle-tale as she turned to Coulson. Admittedly the man appeared supremely sceptical even before she said, “ _He’s_ the one who called him Violet Beauregarde.”

“Who is this Violet Beauregarde?”

“Oh. Um.” Jane turned to Thor, half ashamed; it seemed ridiculous that she would ever forget the fact that he could not know such things, but she had. “She’s a girl who got turned into a blueberry.”

“A blueberry?” Turning this over in his mind didn’t help his bafflement much. “T’was the work of some sorcerer, perhaps?”

“It’s not real, it’s a book.” Her flush grew, and even as she wanted to shoot Tony an accusing glare for starting this, she raised her hands in helpless surrender. “And it was a chocolatier, actually.”

“A choc…?”

“Chocolatier. Chocolate. He makes chocolate. And candy.” Every word only increased Thor’s confusion further;, but Jane couldn’t seem to stop. “Sweets. Sweet food. You know?”

“Ah, I see.” With his arms still crossed over his broad chest, Thor stepped closer, gave Jane the first smile she had seen since Tony’s ungracious exit from her trailer. “We do not have these things on Asgard,” he added, and she blinked.

“I…” She paused, incredulous. “You don’t have chocolate in Asgard?”

“Oh, boy,” said Tony with deep horror. “I think we’ve hit the dealbreaker here, ladies.”

If he’d been any other man, Jane suspected Coulson would have had his head in his hands. Tony still ignored the flint-eyed stare the man wore instead. “Can we please just _pretend_ like this is a matter of national security and be serious for ten minutes?”

“Five.” Turning the icepack over, Tony appeared to contemplate dropping a few extra cubes into the scotch that had appeared in his hand. “Make it five and we’ve golden, Phil. I’ll even give you the rest of my drink.”

“Tony, you could have a concussion!” Jane leaned close, was rewarded with a very strong whiff of alcohol as she snatched the glass away. “Where did you even _get_ this?”

“How did _you_ even get Pepper into your head?” Tony got even closer, dark eyes open wide like he was peering beneath the hood of a particularly intriguing car. She still noticed that he slid the tumbler back to his side of the table. “No, seriously, Pepper, what are you _doing_ in there? Did Jarvis finally crack and work out how to remotely download people into random bodies across the country? God, I knew I shouldn’t have installed _Portal_ on that server. It only gives him ideas.”

“And here I’d been hoping a good knock to the head would shut him up for half an hour.”

Tony raised his glass, tipped Coulson a wink. “It’d have to be a really hard knock,” he advised, cheerful to a fault. “And that’s not an invitation, by the way.”

Though Jane didn’t think Coulson the type to need any such thing – the memory of the way he’d taken her work all those weeks ago still rankled – the man remained both mild and cool, like a still winter morning. “Speaking of invitations, this only confirms my belief that there is work we must attend to in New York.”

“New York?”

“Oh, god,” Tony muttered, pitying eyes upon Jane. “You don’t want to come and stay at Avenger HQ, trust me. Hell, _I_ don’t want to stay at Avenger HQ. It’s all protein shakes and cardio schedules and ten mile runs at dawn through the snow barefoot, and whenever you say ‘Hey, who’s up for beer pong?’ you get totally shot down. And I mean that literally. Dude’s got a collapsible bow, for crying out loud. Talk about stealth. Talk about _unfair_.”

“People _shoot_ you?”

It came as no surprise that Tony completely ignored the muttering from Coulson’s direction, considering it seemed to consist mostly of _you got what was coming to you_. “To be honest, I’m usually trespassed from the place anyway. Apparently I don’t play well with others?” Coulson volunteered nothing verbal; the expression in his eyes was already agreement unlimited. “Not that I care. For a master marksman, he’s pretty shit at beer pong.”

Already wondering why she’d encouraged him, Jane turned her next question upon Couslon. “You want us to go to New York?”

“You may stay, Ms. Foster.” Though he smiled, she couldn’t sense anything of warmth in it. “You can continue your work here, seeing as you’ve proved multiple times that this is a viable tethering point for the bridges on an ongoing basis. Your skillset would be much better utilised where it began.”

“I…what?” He seemed pleased with himself; Jane, on the other hand, felt like her stomach had fallen through the floor. She didn’t even realise she’d stood up. “What’s going on?”

And then Thor’s hand was on her waist, his forearm pressed against the small of her back and his comforting bulk secure at her side. “I will remain with Jane under any and all circumstances.”

“There are bigger issues.”

Tony frowned, kicked back in his head. “Like what?” The look Coulson gave him could have melted steel. Tony didn’t care. “If you want me to consult on stuff, Phil, you kinda gotta tell me what I’m consulting on. Otherwise it really _is_ just going to be all bullshit, all the time.” Coulson’s face suggested this wasn’t any different from the incumbent situation, though Jane had to wonder why the man hadn’t learned better yet when Tony added with casual glee, “And you shouldn’t tempt me. You know I’m not good with temptation.”

“There are disturbances—”

“Yeah, you usually tell me I’m the worst of them.”

“If only.” Setting aside the tablet he’d been tapping at, Coulson inclined his face towards Jane even as she felt him speak right around her. “One of the reasons we wanted Ms. Foster to both open and understand her bridge is because we believe there have been other bridges opened in several other locations around the world.” The knowledge hit her like the downswing of a weighted blade; Coulson had already turned his attention to Thor. “The presence of your brother would suggest to me that it is perhaps of some concern, that we should find him here just now when such things are occurring.”

Thor’s lips thinned. “My brother is not your concern.”

“I rather think he is, if he’s going about ripping holes in reality the way kids rip wings off flies.”

“But he couldn’t.”

Coulson swung around to her with sharp serpentine grace. “What?”

“He couldn’t do it by himself. He had to show _me_ how to open the bridge that brought Thor here in the first place.”

His mouth opened. Then it closed. The darkening expression was no less than the promise of an oncoming storm. “Are you telling me, Ms. Foster, that you have had contact with this so-called Loki before tonight?”

“I—” Jane could have bit her tongue off. “Shit.”

“And this,” he said, lips so thin as to have almost vanished, “is exactly why I don’t want civilians on my team.”

Tony raised his glass. “Hear, hear.” He took a swallow, smiled through the burn. “And this is why civilians don’t want to be on your team either.”

“What happened?”

Under Coulson’s gaze, Jane could not see how to say no. Yet when she glanced sideways and up, Thor’s shuttered expression coiled tight fingers about her voice. Tony’s curiosity loosened them, but either way neither made any move to stop her. With a sigh, she wrapped her hands about one another, stared at the tabletop, and gave a very quick and very edited-for-broadcast account of Loki’s visit to her lab and the equation he had left behind.

In the silence that her conclusion left, Coulson’s dubious comment fell with all the inherent grace of a lead balloon. “All he wanted was to see his brother?”

She felt for his hand, held it tight though her fingers were still bruised. “That’s what he told me.”

“But if he was unable to open a gate of his own, then how did he even come to Earth in the first place?”

Coulson’s voice ended with the slightest note of triumph; Thor shook his head. “He fell into an unordered Bifröst storm – it had been open too long before being forcibly collapsed.” The tension in his hand then hurt Jane almost as much as obviously hurt him. “Loki had been able to move between the Realms without its direct aid before; I would believe that would give him at least some ability to guide himself through even a raging current. But once it had closed, perhaps with the Bifröst gone in Asgard he had no anchor for his power and was therefore unable to open it again unaided.”

“Interesting.” The word sounded more condemnation than compliment; when he spoke again, Jane understood why. “This is why we need you in New York.”

“I have more need of my brother.” His voice held a dark final note. “We will be returning to Asgard together and he will no longer be of any interest to you.”

Jane felt her heart skip, a chasm opening wide both to break it, and to force them apart even as he remained at her side. “What?”

Apology shone in his eyes when he looked down to her, his hands warm on hers. “I must escort Loki home,” he told her, his earnestness as beautiful as it was terrible. “This is not his place.”

“Yeah, and he doesn’t know how to play nicely with others either. Too bad he punted me through a door, we could’ve been friends otherwise.”

Thor gave Tony a look Jane almost wanted to classify as amused; she had to think that once Thor had enough background knowledge of Midgardian custom and culture, he’d probably get along just famously with him too. Then she recalled what he had just said and wondered if he’d ever be here long enough for anything of the sort. Her head hurt, but not as much as her heart.

“Thor, you only just got here.”

“I know.” She hated sounding like a whining child, even before he cupped her face, leaned down to touch his forehead to hers. “We must speak with Heimdall. My father will need to know that my brother is alive, and has been found.”

“I’m not sure when I can open the portal again.” Letting her gaze wander sideways, Jane could see the clear night sky stretching from all ends of the world to meet in the middle in a great shimmering mass of stars. “It’s…it’s not easy.”

“And this is what you get for working outside the private sector. Academics, I just don’t know.” Jane whipped her head around, a sharp retort to hand, but Coulson’s mild insistence would not allow it. “Did you not hear me, Ms. Foster? This is a matter of national security, these portals—”

“If these portals concern you so, then you will wait for me to consult with Heimdall on these matters on your behalf.” Though Thor’s own response managed near-perfect composure, there was a heaviness beneath it like the roll of distant thunder. “He is a gatekeeper, and sees into all Realms. With the Bifröst damaged so, he cannot see beyond Asgard in quite the way he had before, but he knew of Jane’s work.”

“How?”

“From the bridges she opened herself.”

The edge of Coulson’s curiosity would have cut anyone who brushed up against it. “With your brother’s help?”

And Thor’s answer was as immovable as his hammer. “Do you wish my aid or not, son of Coul?”

Jane still couldn’t work out if Coulson was charmed or insulted by Thor’s insistence of addressing him by the mostly-incorrect patronymic; certainly, the oddest expression crossed his face yet again. Jane had to wonder if the man ever believed he was paid enough for this. “You must be able to understand my concern.”

“And you need to trust my judgement.” With his arms crossed again, even through the plaid shirt his muscles flexed with the ease of long training. “I have known my brother his whole life.”

“So what was the thing with the giant fire-breathing machine that tried to kill you? Is that kind of sibling spat mere child’s play in Asgard?”

“It did not _breathe_ fire,” he corrected, though his voice lost its testy edge as he added with still serenity: “It is none of your business.”

“When you take your little brotherly spats downtown, it’s completely my business.”

Even without Mjölnir to immediate hand, the air about Thor crackled with sudden energy. “Since that time, my brother has made no threat to you or your people.”

“He tried to break Stark’s neck.” Tony actually shrugged at that, and Coulson tapped his fingers in a light roll across the tabletop. “Not that I haven’t been tempted to try it myself, but it’s the principle of the thing.”

“He only wants my attention. And he shall have it.” There was nothing unkind in his words, though they also had nothing to yield. “Do not interfere with this.”

“If he interferes with us, then I make no promises.”

“I will deal with my brother.”

Considering their difference in height and sheer mass, their silent face-off ought to have looked utterly ridiculous. Instead, Jane felt suddenly very ill. Then Tony shifted, lowering the icepack. “Does this mean I don’t have to go back to New York and fight with Natasha for the good hairdryer, then?”

Coulson looked set to explode. A moment later he gave a thin smile and stood. “We’ll talk about this again in the morning.”

Following him to the door, Jane gripped her hands tightly about her upper arms and watched him get back in the unmarked black truck. Only when it pulled away did she let the unhappy sigh escape.

“Shit.”

“I will not do anything simply because he requests it of me, Jane.” She almost jumped; for someone as large and as inherently charismatic as he was, Thor could move with surprising silence. Yet she leaned into him gratefully as he spoke just as softly, “While I will do what I can to ensure the protection of your realm, I came here for you.”

 _And I’ll stay because of my brother._ Unspoken though they were, she heard the words clearly. Turning to return inside, she kept close to him all the same. Each step brought to mind the fall of each grain of sand through the neck of an hourglass. The smile she wore upon her face felt as forced as had Coulson’s even temper. “Uh, Tony, are you staying, then?”

“Oh, I’ll get someone to pick me up. Eventually. I’m kind of happy where I am.” He raised a hand, waggled the fingers in the direction of the door. “Besides, here comes Darcy, she can give me a lift back.”

“You should have gone with Agent Coulson.”

“Yeah, if I’d wanted to be hogtied and rolled down the highway like a tumbleweed.” As Darcy set down a tray of coffees bought from the half-reconstructed diner, he gave her a particularly brilliant smile. “Hey Darcy.”

“Hey, Stark.” Nodding back towards the door, she gave a knowing shrug. “Making friends and influencing people again, huh?”

“And I wasn’t even properly under the influence myself.” He waved away the offered coffee; a moment later, with a bottle in one hand and a fresh tumbler in the other, he poured himself two fingers and raised it in her honour. “Though I’m working on that. Cheers.”

Jane still had no idea where the booze was coming from. With a sigh she shook her head and figured babysitting Tony Stark had never been her responsibility. Her concern had been ripping open the sky and calling through a god; compared to keeping Tony in check, that had been little more than a quick game of hopscotch. “All right, all right – we all really ought to get some sleep. Especially if Coulson’s just going to be on the rampage tomorrow.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have a door,” Darcy pointed out. “At the very least, it’s going to be _drafty_. In certain places.”

Darcy had always been good with double entendre so thin she could read her favoured tabloid blogs through it. As she waggled her eyebrows Jane opened her mouth to stop Tony from adding his two thousand cents to the debate when she had help from an unexpected source.

“Your home…” Thor turned slightly, in the direction of her trailer. “I am so sorry, Jane.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

That didn’t appear to give him much comfort, though considering the circumstances she couldn’t blame him. Her hand curled about his lower arm even as Tony stopped trying to fight Darcy for his drink and frowned up at them. “It’s just the door, right?” Reaching for the glass again, he kept his eyes on Jane. “Oh, I can fix that, if you want.”

“What, you’re going to call someone?” Returning to her coffee, Darcy took an entirely sceptical sip. “At this hour of the night in the middle of podunk backwater New Mexico?”

“I have an engineering degree from MIT. I think I can fix a _door_.”

“It doesn’t need to fly and shoot lasers, Tony, you know that, right?” Jane said, exasperated. “Besides, you’ve got a concussion. And you’re _drinking_. Give me that.”

He surrendered it far too easily for comfort. “Honestly, Jane. I can do it. Just give me carte blanche, it’ll be fine. What could possibly go wrong with a door?”

From the grin on his face, Tony was all too aware he’d just shot himself in the foot. “We’ll be okay up on the roof.”

“Up on the roof. Huh.” He rubbed his bruised head, amused. “Didn’t pick you as the type for exhibitionism.”

“You know, this needs a .gif.” From the way Darcy whipped out her iPad and started dancing her fingers over its surface, it was happening even as she spoke. “And a nice new tag on tumblr. _Tony Stark shoots down exhibitionism_. And it’ll have right after it _Nice try Tony_ and _Liar, liar, pants on fire_. Sound cool to you?”

“Who said I was complaining?”

“I’ll do it for you,” Jane said, taking up her own coffee. “Darcy, can you drive Tony back to the base? I’m…I think I ought to just get some shut-eye.”

“Sure.” But even as she stowed her iPad with a glint in her eye that couldn’t bode well for Tony, Darcy managed a serious question. “Are you going to be all right?”

Thor nodded for her, making his first contribution to the fresh conversation. “I will not leave her side.”

“Man, I wish I had a knight in shining armour like you.” As Darcy put an arm around Tony – ostensibly for support, probably more to cop a feel; on the other hand, Jane had to think Tony was leaning on her a little too heavily considering he’d just been volunteering himself for a little DIY – she gave them an exaggerated wink. “Night, guys.”

As she shooed them away with a laugh, Jane knew she would not change what she had done. But she thought sometimes if there were no knights, then there might be no dragons either.

 

*****

 

Wrapping her hands about the mug Jane looked up galaxy spangled across the sky. Though she took a sip, she felt neither thirsty nor hungry. The exercise of hot chocolate and smores up on the roof was more just something to do because she doubted sleep would come easily for either of them. Thor had predictably enough eaten everything she’d found for him, and more besides, but she had to think that it had been more automatic than intentional.

“This chocolate is good.” She didn’t bother to hide her half-baffled amusement as he grinned over at her, by now working on his third Milky Way. “It truly is a pity we do not have it in Asgard.”

Jane’s own smile began to fade, and she set her mug aside; the scent had quite abruptly curdled her stomach. “So you’re really going back?”

Though she had tried for light-hearted, had tried to be non-accusatory, the flicker in his eyes told her that she had not been able to mask her misery. “Jane, I must,” he said; dropping the candy bar’s wrapper into their little garbage bag, he inclined his body towards her, hands reaching out to cradle her own. The blue eyes seemed to catch the light of all the stars overhead, and hold it as tightly as their entwined hands. “Midgard is no place for my brother alone, not while he is in this state. He must come home to Asgard.”

“Do you think he still sees it as his home?”

For a long moment he remained quiet, though he did not look away. In that stillness she almost felt bad for saying such a thing aloud. But it was not sadness, or anger upon his face. He seemed merely thoughtful.

“He cannot possibly think that Jotunheim is his home,” he said finally, the words holding the heavy quality of an art of contemplation only recently learned. “His place is in Asgard.”

“No matter what he’s done?”

“Perhaps _because_ of what he’s done.” For all Jane thought that could not make much sense, he went on as if he had heard her thoughts. “The blame is not his alone.”

Again she had only silence to answer with. Though the words roiled inside her, fighting to be released, Jane kept them to herself. After a long moment, Thor leaned close, his breath warm against her cheek.

“I am sorry, Jane. I had hoped for a more pleasant reunion than this.”

If she moved her head slightly, just to the right, she could press their lips together. Instead, she only nodded. “It’s okay.” Drawing back, she gave a little shrug to match the smile she forced. “At least now we know that it’s possible, right?”

“All things should be possible.” Thor kept his hands over hers, though his eyes had wandered up to the stars again. “I will return for you.”

 _For how long?_ Her heart ached with the weight of her unspoken words. Then he turned, again, and one of those large hands rose to cradle her face. She felt so impossibly small under his touch, the calluses of a warrior very nearly harsh against the softness of her skin.

“I promise you, Jane.” Again he came close enough to kiss, if only she would bridge the gap. “I only want you to be safe.”

She swallowed, kept her distance, her words a mere whisper. “Am I not safe, then?”

“Well, I don’t know about that. _Are_ you safe?”

Jane stiffened. Thor, his hand still upon her cheek, let his brow furrow. “Jane?”

“I…” Pulling back, even as she thought perhaps it was not a good idea to loose herself from Thor’s protective touch, she bit her lip. “Didn’t you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

When she had been young, like most other children Jane had been scared of the monsters that had lurked under her pastel-pink bed. But there had been rites and rituals, passed on from her father and from other kids at school, that could hold such horrors back. The one she remembered best was one of the simplest: the creature couldn’t possibly be real as long as she didn’t look at it. Like fairies, you had to believe in monsters to make them exist.

_But what if the monster already believes in you?_

Jane swallowed hard, and turned.

Loki sat beside her upon the cool concrete of the roof, long legs crossed tailor-style. Despite the casual pose he had dressed again in the elegant suit of their first meeting, though tonight without the long coat or scarf. The pointed chin rested upon laced fingers, and he was Asgardian again: pale-skinned and watchful-eyed. Yet she could remember all too well the cyanotic skin with its alien runes, the blood-red sclera of his Jotun form.

“He’s right here.”

Baffled, Thor could only blink. “What?”

“Loki. He’s sitting right there.”

A frowned marred his features as he leaned forward, peering around her tightly-held body. “I cannot see him.” The frown deepened, and even as Jane went to say that she was not going mad, Thor stared in Loki’s approximate direction and said distinctly: “Brother, this is not funny.”

“Oh, of course it is.” Loki tilted his not-brother a sardonic smile. “Can’t you hear me laughing?”

Even had Loki actually been laughing, it was clear Thor would not have heard it. Silence reigned instead; Thor remained on edge, tilted in his brother’s direction, while Loki merely watched with long limbs set at deceptive ease. Jane looked between them, the dark and the light, and then settled on the latter even as she felt the eyes of the former burning into the back of her head. “Thor…”

“He has always been inclined to do things such as this.” The barest shade of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Believe it or not, one does get used to it.”

“But surely he didn’t do this to you before. Not like this.”

“No.” All semblance of nostalgic humour had vanished. “He didn’t.”

Even with Thor tilted in his brother’s general direction, fear rippled across her skin as she looked to him again. The watchful smile Loki wore was the touch of heavy frost. Jane felt again like a child, as if the closet door was hanging wide open and the darkness inside was a Lovecraftian portal into hell just waiting to spill forth its secrets.

“Are you expecting me to act as a translator?” she said finally. “Because that’s really childish.”

His amusement didn’t fade, did not lose its glacial edge. “It’s rather surprising, actually, how much more children are likely to understand than adults.”

“So you’re just going to pretend to be one and leave the other adults to clean up your mess?”

The brittle laughter ground against her ears, making her wince. “Well, it did all begin with adults thinking they knew what was best for children not even their own.”

“So is that how you’re going to end it?”

“Oh,” he said, eyes sliding sideways to the motionless Thor, “I think we both know exactly how this is going to end.”

“Loki.” The low voice again had the low promising of waiting brontide. “Do I truly deserve this?”

Loki’s eyes, a rich dark green now, flicked up to rest upon his brother. The thoughtful quality of it again reminded her of the slow and relentless forward motion of a glacier, eroding away at the world so slowly it would not notice the damage until years upon years later.

“Jane, has he no answer for me?”

She swallowed hard. “He’s not saying anything now, no.”

“We are children no longer, Loki. This is no time for silly games.”

Loki jolted; something in Thor’s voice seemed to surprise even him. “Sometimes I forget that he does have these moments of insight,” he murmured, then his shoulders stiffened and his jaw tightened. “But they are only moments.” When he turned to Jane, his knowing smirk showed all of his teeth. “Still. When they come…he is magnificent, isn’t he?”

A deep flush began to crawl up her throat, her fingernails digging into the cheap plastic of her deckchair. Even as she drew breath to speak, Thor’s voice became a sharp whipcrack of thunder.

“ _Loki_.”

He laughed aloud again, almost startled. “I am surprised you don’t just use Mjölnir to sort out your problems. Is it not your cure-all for the ills of the world centred around you?”

Thor shook his head. “I have moved beyond that,” he said quietly, and Jane stifled a gasp; there had been nothing to her eye that indicated Loki’s visibility had changed. Yet neither brother acted as if it were all peculiar. She couldn’t decide if that said more about their shared childhood, or just their Asgardian natures in general.

“Ah, but if only I could believe such things.” Loki braced his palms upon the ground, flowed to his feet. “But I do not. And I’m still waiting.”

Thor stood, but only to move between Jane and Loki. “I will not harm you.”

“Given enough time, you will. And you know it.” His thinned lips twisted up again. “So tell me, Thor, what _would_ it take?” The set of his head reminded her of the adage about the quick and the dead. “Would I have to hurt her?”

“Stop it.” His hands tightened, and though Mjölnir remained down in the trailer Jane suspected Loki knew as well as she did that it would come to its master at even his quietest summons. Then, the fingers relaxed, fell free of his palms. “This is unworthy of you, Loki.”

“Well I am a monster, aren’t I?”

Even as Loki goaded onward, it remained an argument Thor clearly did not wish to have. He only stared at his brother, let him allow the quiet to fall between them. Yet beneath the unease lay the joy Jane had seen in much greater quantity when Thor had first discovered his brother still lived. Loki remained as watchful as a cat: claws sheathed beneath the fur that looked soft enough to touch. The cut-glass smile only grew when Thor broke the impasse.

“We must go back to Asgard.”

“Back to Asgard?” Had the situation not been so dire, Loki’s light laugh might have been mere conversational delight. “So it’s to be a public execution then? You always did take me to the best places, Thor. It’s very kind of you to consider my wellbeing of my memory to the realm.”

“They will not execute you for what happened.”

“For what I _did_. Let’s not dissemble too much, Thor, shall we?” When he crossed his arms, the long pale fingers danced a light dirge upon dark sleeves. “Or did the Allfather not confess the sins of the not-son, or those of the not-father? So how did he explain the state of the Bifröst then? An unfortunate accident, perhaps? Hot-headed Thor, panicked by the thought of further Jotunheim incursion?” His lips curled, and there was no chance of believing a smile lay behind it now. “Surely the Jotun have at least noticed Laufey is missing.”

Thor answered only with the silence found at the eye of a storm of conflicted emotion. Loki’s quick laugh was an incredulous bark.

“You don’t _know_?”

“Come back, and you will see.”

“And here I thought I was the tricky one.” Casting a look back over the half-built town he had helped destroy in the first place, Loki curled a lip in disgust. “Fear not, once-brother mine, I do at least have no interest in remaining in this sordid little realm.”

“Well, Tony’s going to be ecstatic to hear that.”

Jane hadn’t intended to speak those muttered words aloud. But Loki’s head snapped around, his eyes narrowed as he twisted his lips around the name. “ _Tony_?”

Thor gave her a warning look. Jane surrendered to her growing frustration anyway, squaring her shoulders to glare at the far taller man. “You met him earlier. Shoved him out of my trailer, remember?”

“I merely showed him the door.”

“Yeah, I think he saw it pretty well even before you mashed his face into it.”

“And such a handsome face it was, too.” Somewhat to her horror he appeared to be enjoying their little verbal spar; it was only all the worse when she realised she took fierce pleasure in it herself. The he tilted his head to one side and blinked his eyes innocently. “Tell me, then, does he want a _personal_ apology?”

“I don’t think you’ll be seeing him again.”

Loki twisted slightly, looking over one shoulder to his brother. “Only the third time we’ve met and already she’s screening my friends,” he said, almost conspiratorial in his mock-despair. “I never picked you as the type, Thor. To choose a bedmate with such… _maternal_ tendencies, that is.”

“Leave Jane out of this.”

“She is the one who entered the conversation without invitation.” One elegant hand waved her existence away as if she were merely an insect. “But it is no matter. Now that the portals can be opened, if you will not end my miserable existence then it is only fair that you and your little mortal magician here shall give me passage to a realm other than this one.”

So stunned was he, it was as if Loki had smacked him upside the head with Mjölnir itself. “No.”

“I cannot return to Asgard and you imply I would not be welcome here.” Slim shoulders moved up, down, fluid and yet unyielding. “You also will not kill me yourself. I have no intention of ending my own life, so therefore it stands to reason that I must go elsewhere.”

“Loki.” Thor would not beg, but Jane thought they could all recognise that he wished he was able to. “Come home to Asgard.”

“No.”

“Then stay here.” He paused, and then in a rush as if he thought he might not speak so aloud if he thought too much: “And I will stay with you.”

Jane’s stomach dropped, even with the hope in Thor’s voice. But Loki’s eyes widened.

“This is exactly the problem. No sense of responsibility.” Anger coloured his words deep dark black, each one part of a front of building stormclouds. “Yes, Odin Allfather is awake now, but when he next falls into the Odinsleep what will you do? Return home half a stranger to hold court in his place when you know nothing of the world, and then when he awakens you’ll come running back to here to your Midgard bride and your Jotun charity case?”

His brow furrowed. “‘Charity case?’”

“You need to learn more about your bride’s home,” Loki said with a sneer. “Perhaps you will not be so suited to the fine art of diplomacy after all.”

“It’s not diplomacy.”

“No, you’re quite right. It’s pure _idiocy_.”

But as Loki’s fury only grew, it could not force Thor into a matched echo. “I will not leave you, brother,” he said, calm. “Not now that I have found you.”

“In actual fact, I am the one who led you to me. But that is no matter.”

“You wanted me to find you.”

Loki’s stare could have frozen the heart of the sun itself, but Thor still did not back down.

“Why?”

The laugh was short, ugly, a stunted tree planted in the wrong soil to grow under the wrong sun in a forest of which it could never be a true part of. “Because I wanted you to know what I am.”

“You are my—”

“Spare me, Thor. _I_ know what I am. And I know what you are.” Brushing off his lapels, he half-turned towards the western horizon. “I have other places I wish to be.”

“Don’t go.” Then, suddenly, strangely, as if not quite intended: “I miss you.”

“You miss your brother,” Loki corrected, his own voice low. “And I don’t know him anymore.”

“Why are you doing this?” Clear anger for the first time entered his voice, struggling against the calm he tried to maintain. “I don’t understand what you want of me!”

“A way out, of course.” His weight shifted from one foot to the other, though his eyes never lost their heavy disdain. “A way home.”

“Isn’t that what I’m offering you? Asgard is your home!” The mockery of Loki’s expression had him grinding his teeth even as he tried again. “Failing that, Midgard could be too. If that is what you need of me, brother, then I will do it.”

“So you believe just because you are happy here, I would be too? But why _are_ you so happy here?” His incredulity melted into cold scorn. “Oh, that’s right, you went native. You even got yourself a pet native just to really make yourself look the fool.”

“You will speak of her with respect.”

“I see.” Crossing one arm over his chest, open palm to his heart, he tilted his head forward in a smart little bow that sent a shiver down her spine. “My apologies, Ms. Foster.”

“It’s doctor, actually.”

Straightening again, he seemed to take power from the anger she hadn’t been able to hold back. “Of course. My further apologies, Doctor Actually.”

Thor kept himself firmly between them. “Loki, I wish only to help you.”

“Then kill me.” The spasm of pain that moved across Thor’s face only seemed to goad Loki into adding, “Or just let me go. Again.”

“ _No_.”

“It’s not your choice,” Loki said, and something almost like regret flashed in his eyes. “And this is not my place.” This time, his bow was made to Thor – and Jane could not help but note it was far lower than the one he’d offered her. “Now, if you will excuse me.”

His hand shot out with all the momentum and force of any given trajectory of Mjölnir; but when Thor clasped his brother’s wrist, tried to pull back, Loki was as stone.

“Release me.”

“I will do no such thing.”

“I am not yours to command. Not anymore.”

The hiss of his words had a strange effect on Thor, as if it brought a heavy weight of déjà vu down to bear upon his broad shoulders. “I am not commanding you, Loki.” Despite his weary words, his grip remained strong. “I am asking you.”

“And I am saying no.”

In the silence that followed Loki took a step back, pulled away. Thor’s outstretched arm held tight, tethering them together. To Jane’s eyes, though the brothers stood on solid ground they had both never looked so ready to fall.

Then, she saw it.

“Thor, your _hand_!”

But he said nothing, eyes fixed upon Loki. And he looked down, tsked his tongue quietly before looking up one last time.

“Do you not see now? I am not as you are.” The blue taint crept along his skin, and while Thor’s hand trembled on his wrist it was the rising scent of singed flesh that turned Jane’s stomach. “This is no more my world than Asgard, or even Jotunheim.”

“Please,” he said, the last whisper of a dying storm. “Loki, not again. I cannot do this again.”

“You are only thinking of yourself.” After the pause, his voice became a bare whisper. “And you’re hurting me.”

Loki’s words seemed almost an incantation; for the first time Thor appeared to feel the ice-cold burn and let go. The moment he did, Loki was gone.

In the stillness, Jane reached forward. Thor simply closed his eyes and allowed his chin to fall to his chest. With both hands limp and empty at his sides, he drew a trembling breath; it left him as a deep groan, half a cry to heaven. Then silence covered the sky, and yet his sorrow still felt as loud as thunder.

“Thor.” Tears dripped down her cheeks as she wrapped her arms about his waist, pressed her face against his chest as if she could hope to hold his heart together. “ _Thor_.”

In the end they pushed the chairs close together, blankets spilling from one to the next. While Thor worked, Jane retrieved the first aid kit from downstairs. Her own hands still ached, but it didn’t matter. Those bruises paled in comparison to the burn on his hand; even with his Asgardian constitution the skin had blackened, beginning to peel in ugly strips. The lifelines of his palm were now impossible to read, obscured and shadowed. Yet Thor held Tony’s abandoned icepack to his hand with careless disinterest, face inclined to the clear skies overhead.

“I never thought I would be without him.”

Curled beneath her blankets, her hands resting on shoulder and thigh, Jane curved closer still to Thor’s motionless body. “You know,” she whispered, “we have a saying here – you can choose your friends, but not your family.”

“Friend or family or…foe,” he said bleakly, “I will always choose him.”

Jane swallowed hard. But his unburned hand remained tight upon hers, and for that she supposed she would just have to take what she could get. Loki had chosen to go.

_“I may no longer be his brother, Ms. Foster. But do not doubt I will take my rightful place sooner rather than later.”_

All she could do now was close her eyes and pray he would not choose to return, no matter how that choice would hurt Thor. It seemed impossible to believe that the other way around would not just hurt him even worse.

 

*****

 

When she woke it was startled, sudden. Blinking up at sky, she could not understand what had pulled her so cruelly from so dead a sleep. No dream-fragments lingered in her mind, and no sound moved through the still air. Only the rising shadows beyond dawn brought motion to the world; the town itself had not quite awakened, save for a few hardy souls about their earliest tasks. Jane paid them no heed as she sat up straighter, blanket falling free. Something else had caught her attention now.

Thor was gone.

Even as panic began to cheerfully wrap cold fingers about her throat she pushed her feet into her sneakers and crossed the roof. From the back, she could look to the east and see a lone figure down below, silhouetted against the rising sun.

Climbing down, wincing at the stiffness in her fingers, Jane dug her hands into her pockets and kept her silence. Something seemed strange to her, peculiar and heavy, like the air held all the electric charge of a Van de Graaff generator. But still she walked to him. He pulled her with all the force of a magnet – or perhaps a siren, she thought, though she was a scientist before she could ever be a poet.

“Thor?”

There was no wind and yet the air seemed to whip her voice away, leaving her words reedy and thin. He gave no reply. Knowing – hoping – he’d simply not heard, Jane came to take her place at his side. Even as she did so she felt awkward, even wrong. She had always been so much smaller than he was. Seeing them side by side must make them look foolish to an outsider.

“Thor?” she tried, again. He did not reply, his face turned towards the sun as if its heat could not burn him, still tempered by the remains of the night though it was. She opened her mouth. Then she noticed it. Her heart stopped dead along with the words she could not voice.

His palm was healed, the lifeline strong and true. In that unbroken line it seemed as if the previous night had never happened at all. Jane’s own hands curled into helpless fists, and she cursed Loki for using every ending to just start something new all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an incidental note: this fic's been eating my brain something chronic since it started, but even though I've had this chapter mostly written for days thanks to work and the sudden adoption of my nephew for the weekend I've only just managed to produce it. I do want to say, however, that as my nephew wanted to watch movies with me today and therefore I couldn't write, we...ended up watching "Iron Man" and "Thor." Nevermind it's probably completely inappropriate for his age group. ...to be honest, I think he was more scared by "The Princess Bride." I am like the Worst Aunt Ever. <3 (He prefers Thor over Tony. Also, the first character whose name he learned was Loki. Um...oops. ^_^)


	4. This Love (Will Be Your Downfall)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which much coffee is drunk and the plot finally turns up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This damn thing really is eating my brain; every time I get to the end of a chapter I tell myself to let it lie for a week or so before starting on the next, and...fifteen minutes later, I've started on the next. Bah.
> 
> The good news is, at least, that the plot makes an appearance here – late, having driven too fast, and kind of drunk with it. I say let’s just blame Tony and drag it on in anyway. I know where it's supposed to be headed. I just need to sober it up enough to get us all there...

“Is Thor all right?” Setting down a plate of slightly soggy scrambled eggs before Jane, Darcy slid into her own chair with nothing more than a Little Miss Naughty mug to hand. “I mean, I don’t do the kitchen goddess thing for just anyone.”

“You were just hoping he’d walk in without his shirt on again.”

“A girl’s gotta have something to get out of bed for in the morning.” Then, though her mug was in the way of her mouth, the waggled eyebrows promised her smile would be something far closer to a leer. “Or something to _stay_ in bed for…?”

Though Jane took up her fork, poked the tines into the yellow crumbling mountain, her eyes were only upon the door Thor had just excused himself through.

 _The trouble with Loki_ , he’d said at dawn, face all planes and lines of light and shadow, _is that one can never be entirely certain when he speaks the truth, and when he does not_.

Shaking her head, Jane made a token attempt to pay attention to her breakfast. She still didn’t start eating, it was simply easier to meet its non-existent eyes than to look at Darcy. “He’s just upset about his brother.”

“He just really needs to cut him loose,” Darcy said, pragmatic and too casual to be actually unkind as she hunched over her precious first coffee of the day. “I mean, sure, family’s family, but sometimes there’s just nothing you can do anymore, you know?”

“I think he feels responsible.”

“Why? It’s not his fault his brother’s gone three hundred different shades of loco.”

“Loki is his little brother.” Such simple words felt utterly inadequate for their purpose, and were also completely incapable of explaining the dull, twisting pain low in her abdomen. The way Thor had sounded last night when Loki had walked away still rang in her ears, resonating in her heart so strongly that she feared it might shake itself all to pieces. “Thor…just wants him to be happy, I guess. And from what he’s said, I think he’s afraid Loki’s _never_ been happy.”

“Pro tip: blowing shit up never helps.”

She stopped twisting a piece of toast around her fork. “You’re a political science major, when did you ever blow shit up?”

“I watch a lot of _Mythbusters_ ,” she said, purposely vague. “Oh, I got a call from Tony, by the way. He said your phone kept going to voicemail.”

“Really?” Digging the battered device out of her pocket, she flicked it open; the screen remained blank. A few quick presses of the keys later, she shrugged and dropped it back. “Battery’s dead.”

“Didn’t you just charge it yesterday? Thought I saw you take it off the charger when Agent Mulder was here last night.”

“I did. But…Thor.” After making one last half-hearted attempt, Jane gave up on breakfast altogether and put her fork down. “I don’t know, he seems to affect things sometimes. Electronics, I mean. Maybe it’s Mjölnir.”

“Maybe it’s Maybelline.” Darcy still blinked at the unseen phone with a smile that Jane didn’t want to think too hard about. “But man, if the charge went down that much last night…must have been good.”

“It must have been Loki,” she muttered, and then raised her voice before Darcy could start in on her pop psychology again. “What did Tony want?”

“Apparently some guy’s flying in to see Thor. Or so Tony said.” Dunking her finger in the mug, Darcy sucked it thoughtfully, then added, “Actually, what he said was, he’s due a hard spanking and someone’s coming in to give him one.” This time she took a swallow of her coffee like a normal person. “So it might just be some highclass hooker.”

“I suppose you never can tell.”

“Not with the Starkinator.”

Jane had to snort at that one. “He’s already got one secret superhero identity, he doesn’t need another.”

“He told everyone his secret identity.” After draining the mug dry, she pushed it aside, laced her fingers together, and gave Jane a conspiratorial grin. “Though it would be just like him, to take up another secret identity that already had his name in it. Wouldn’t even need the press conference then.”

“You’re driving me back to the Motrin bottle,” Jane warned, and Darcy laughed.

“Try some of Tony’s scotch instead, it’s awesome.” She was crossing back to the coffee pot when the sound of a truck pulling up outside stopped her dead. “Hey, maybe that’s Tony and his hooker.”

Jane craned over, frowned at what she saw. “It’s a huge black guy with an eyepatch.”

“Maybe he’s into pirates.” At the _look_ this earned her, she threw up her hands in high defense. “Hey, guys away at sea for months with no ladies do what they have to do to get a little lurvin’, you know?”

“Just come on.”

They met them at the opened garage door; Tony had his hands deep in his pockets, while the other man held his head high with a bearing Jane could name as nothing else but military. Coulson wasn’t with them, but the single eye of the new man held a deep watchfulness that suggested he was more than capable of having the world to do exactly as asked all on his own.

“Dr. Foster?” he asked, and though she gave a reflexive smile of greeting his voice still sent a frisson through her; this was a man used to being heeded without question.

“That’s me.”

“Nick Fury.” Not that he offered a hand; he was casting an evaluating eye about the lab instead. “I’m here to talk to Thor Odinson.”

“He’s…out back.” Jane skipped her eyes to Tony, who scrunched his face up in such a way that she suspected he hadn’t had enough coffee this morning. “He’s not really in a great mood.”

“Neither am I. I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

The man strode away; Jane made to follow, but hadn’t even got two feet when Tony’s hand closed about her wrist. The movement was gentle enough, but quick with an underlying strength she wasn’t sure she wanted to test.

“Let him go.”

Jane half-turned, mouth twisted in disbelief. “What, alone?”

“It’s just a quick conversation.” He’d already released her, though Jane had the distinct impression he’d reach for her again in a heartbeat if he felt he had to. “Fury likes to do it this way. He’s got a bit of the flair for the dramatic, yeah?”

“And you like that?”

“No, not really. But you gotta give the guy his due, he cares about what he does. Figure we might as well let him take his shot.”

After Tony’s vague comments about the guy in New York with the collapsible bow, Jane couldn’t take any actual comfort from that particular phrasing. “So who is he, exactly?”

“The director of what I most affectionately refer to as his little boy band, though to be honest there’s a girl in it, which kind of ruins a quality bit of sarcasm otherwise.” Leaning slim hips back against the table, he crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged. “It’s a crack team of cracked people, put it that way. Fury’d love it if Thor joined up for the long haul, but to be honest right now he’s more into doing something about his batshit brother.”

She winced. “Don’t call him that.”

“Dude, said batshit punted him out of your trailer,” Darcy remarked. “He’s allowed.”

“Thanks, Darcy,” Tony said, brightening tenfold as she also handed over a fresh cup of coffee. “God, I’m a complete genius, you’d think I’d have worked out some way of just pumping this stuff into my veins twenty-four seven without going completely batshit myself.”

“Some might say you’re already there.” Tony’s grin, although half-hidden by the cup, could really only be described as _shit-eating_. Jane rolled her eyes. “But seriously, Tony…a _team_?”

“Well, I don’t know a lot about it. I was asked to join up, but apparently I cause more problems than I solve.” Setting the cup down, he looked very nearly proud of that fact. “I mean, I help out a bit here and there—”

“There being here?”

“Yeah.” He tipped Darcy a wink even as his eyes settled somewhat further south. “But then the scenery alone’s worth it.”

“Pig,” she replied, but cheerfully enough handed him a second coffee. Jane ignored the fact it looked like he was about to worship her, and tried to steer him back on track.

“So you can’t tell me what he wants?”

Scrunching up his nose, Tony took three long drags on the new cup, then gave up. “Not really.”

“But it’s about New York?”

“I’m usually in California,” he said, purposefully vague in the face of her persistence. “So, anyone up for some beer pong?”

The truth was, Jane thought he was lying. All the same she felt something honest in his concern and decided to just let it go even as she pointed out eight in the morning was far too early for alcohol. They ended up in a perfectly horrific game of makeshift Twister instead. She’d thought her life couldn’t get any weirder the night they’d witnessed the Bifröst and she and Darcy had started Thor’s humiliation conga with their demented shared driving skills. Now she figured that that was apparently how one went about tempting fate to hell and gone.

Perhaps an hour or more passed in a flurry of limbs, spins, and heated debates on the limits of cheating on a makeshift game mat. Not one of them noticed Thor and Fury in the doorway until the latter raised his voice.

“Stark, can I have a word?”

Despite the intonation nothing suggested it had been phrased as a request. Pretzeled in between two women, Tony still glanced up with clear disgust. “Real nice timing, Nick. All part of the training, I suppose – what do you call this move, the men in black cock-block extreme?”

Darcy elbowed him in the gut for that, and even as Tony collapsed Fury just stared. “Now.”

“God, you could at least offer me a drink, first,” he wheezed, one hand to his solar plexus. “Sorry, ladies. My country calls.”

“For your blood?” Darcy suggested, and his answering grin was both sour and amused.

“Very good. Careful you don’t cut yourself on that razor-sharp wit, Darce.”

It was Thor who walked over to help Jane to her feet, not bothering to interfere in the continued shoving/tickling match that had erupted between Tony and Darcy. When Fury and Tony finally began to walk back towards the unmarked black car on the street, Tony apparently having a one-sided argument with the other man, he sighed. “Jane, I need to speak with you.”

“I’ll…just go down to the diner.” Jane turned, surprised, but Darcy had already swept her iPad into her bookbag; slinging it over her shoulder, she collected the remnants of her own coffee and nodded to them both. “I’ll be back later.”

Thor raised a hand in easy farewell as Darcy disappeared, though his words were directed at Jane. “Where is Erik?”

“Down at the Bifröst site, helping Coulson’s guys keep an eye on the weather patterns. Hopefully we’ll be able to open it again soon, to let you speak to Heimdall properly.”

“Good.” As he crossed the room to the little kitchenette, Jane noted again a certain stiffness to his walk. He’d never moved with the serpentine elegance of his brother, but there had always been a keen grace about him despite his bulk. It was not an injury, she knew, but a coiled tension neither of them knew how to release.

Jane was moving to go to his side when he picked up a cup. A moment later he threw it clear across the room where it shattered against the far wall.

She almost tripped; though she kept her balance, she did stop dead. The silence between them yawned dark and wide and open, like a chasm opened by a sudden earthquake. Then Jane swallowed, hoping her voice wouldn’t break even as she tried to keep it light. “…another?”

“What?” For a long moment he only stared, no comprehension of her words or even his actions in his expressionless face. Then, said face fell. Moving quickly for the table, he sat down heavily and bowed his head, hands dangling between his knees. There was no sign of Mjölnir, but the charge of the air about him reminded her that his weapon of choice was never far from his call.

Then he looked up, wretched. “Jane, I am so very sorry.”

Fixing a smile upon her face she returned to the table, dragged a chair close, and sat at his side. “It’s okay.”

“It is not.” Passing a hand over his face, he seemed very tired. She had never thought gods could grow weary. “We had a deal.”

“A deal?” she asked, brow furrowed; he blinked.

“No smashing.”

“Oh, yeah. No smashing.” With a wry grin, she pushed the eggs she had long since abandoned to one side and rested her elbows on the table. Cupping her chin, she smiled with patient amusement. “Considering the circumstances, I think I can let it go this one time.”

“On Asgard, I was known for my habit of tipping over entire banquet tables.”

“Well, this was just the one cup. That’s a downgrade.” Now her smile hovered somewhere between tremulous and wry. “Suppose that’s good news?”

Thor shook his head, looked away towards the door their visitors had left through. “This man Tony brought with him – he wishes me to go to New York.” Then he turned back to her, frustration evident in the taut cords of his neck. “And they wish for you to remain here.”

She tried for nonchalant, but thought he could easily read the tension in her shrug. “Agent Coulson said as much last night.”

“I could insist you come.”

That had never really been her concern. What hurt more was the knowledge that she was losing him again so soon after getting him back. “So you’re going?”

“I wish to understand more of these issues with the bridges.” He paused, fidgeted; even with his great bulk it made him look surprisingly childish. “And I do not wish to return to Asgard while I wait for Loki.”

“ _Wait_ for Loki?”

“When I spoke to him this morning.” Again, the distance stretched between them, his gaze and his thoughts – likely also his heart – moving elsewhere. “He promised me that he would reconsider a return to Asgard. But he would not do so until enough time had passed to allow some of the wounds to begin to heal, for tempers to settle and reflections to deepen.”

Nothing about those words struck her as a good idea – in particular the desperate hope she could hear humming just beneath their calm surface. “So he’s just…staying here on Earth?”

“And so shall I.” She hadn’t bothered to hide her concern, and neither did he mask his misery. “I wish to trust him, Jane. But I cannot.” In his silence she knew years of memories moved through his mind; when he looked up at her, he had only days to recall. His sincerity seemed no less for it. “And I cannot allow any circumstance that might bring harm to you.”

“You think he’s planning something?”

“I do not know.” When he cast a glance down at his healed hand, Jane could not help but mirror him. “But this man, this Director Fury, says that Tony will be permitted to remain with you in my place, if it would give me peace enough to travel to New York.”

“I think Tony does what he wants,” Jane said, and even though she felt a flare of gratitude she had to wonder how she’d survive another few days of all Tony Stark, all the time. “But it’s okay. You should go.”

She could even believe she meant it, for all the flare of pain in wrought deep down in the shadowed selfish chambers of her heart. The better part of her knew that blood or no, Loki had been his brother for longer than she could ever hope to be alive. She thought he sensed her thoughts, for he stood and then came to kneel before her. With one hand cradling her cheek, he looked up at her with pale apology. “This is not the reunion I had intended, when I left you that last time.”

“Yeah, life’s like that.”

“We must talk properly.” The ball of his thumb raced a gentle circle on the line of her jaw. “When I return from New York.”

She sighed, curved into his touch. “About?”

“Us.” When she met his eyes, the tip of his tongue passed almost nervously over his upper lip. “I wish to do nothing that would dishonour you, Jane.”

“It’s all right,” she whispered, already leaning forward. “I don’t think you could, even if you tried.”

Strong arms moved around her, followed closely by the press of warm lips against her own. Yet even as she willingly gave herself over to his embrace, she could not help but notice that he had volunteered nothing more about the conversation with Loki that morning.

Then she wondered if that was why she didn’t say anything more about her own.

 

*****

 

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Jane reminded herself there was no need for nerves – this wasn’t even the first time they’d spoken. It didn’t help. For all the woman’s boss was practically her newest lab assistant, but still couldn’t help but feel an uneasy awe rippling down her spine. Looking into the camera, she abruptly wished she’d thought to do her hair properly. “Uh, hi, Miss Potts.”

The woman’s returning grin was wide, and far gentler than she’d have expected from a woman capable of collaring Tony Stark at even his wildest. “Call me Pepper. Honestly, everyone else does.”

“Is that really your name?” she asked, and then wanted to kick herself; she’d been a scientist too long, and bald questions came far too easily. Fortunately Pepper didn’t appear to mind, her laugh light and easy.

“No, it’s Virginia. No-one calls me that.” Then she pursed her lips, eyes wandering sideways as they tagged along behind an awakened memory. “…well, Tony once tried for _Ginny_ , come to think of it. Then he asked if he could be Harry and show me his really magic wand.”

“Was he drunk?”

“You know, sometimes it’s surprisingly hard to tell.” The girlish smirk she gave seemed very at odds with the position she held, but then Jane could not have expected the simple warmth in her voice as she asked, “How are you, Jane?”

“I’m…good.” Shifting in her seat, she nodded towards the door. “Are you looking for Tony? He and Thor are out sparring. Apparently if he’s going to be babysitting me while they’re off in New York, Thor has to be sure he’s up to the task.”

A long-suffering look crossed her face, though her tone remained mild. “How’s it going?”

“Well, they haven’t evacuated town. Yet.” Though she suspected more than one resident would be finding the ominous cloud cover odd, considering the weatherman had insisted on clear skies and a sunny afternoon in the making. “Although when they left Tony was telling Thor something about electromagnetic pulses being dirty tactics, so take that as you will.”

“Can he make those?”

“I suppose we’ll find out.” As Pepper’s brow furrowed deeper, she tried for reassuring. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

 “Still, it’s ironic as I’m calling up to check on him myself, except with you. Are you sure you want to put up with him?”

Thinking of Darcy and her endless stalking, she had to wonder if Tony would be better off at home – and that was even before one took into account the progressively more deranged Norse god sifting about the town at random intervals. Shifting uneasily on her chair, she gave an uneasy shrug. “We’ll manage. I just…are _you_ really okay with all this? I mean, you must need him back in Malibu.”

“Yes. No. He does get underfoot.” Absently smoothing a stray hair back into place, Pepper gave a short chuckle. “And it could be worse. At least this way he’s out doing something useful. The mood he was in before Agent Coulson called him out to you…well, let’s just say if he were home, I wouldn’t be surprised to find him drunk while sitting on a fancy chair in his suit talking about how Ned ought to be proud, the Starks ended up with the Iron Throne after all.”

Given the stories she’d heard about him – hell, given the way she’d noticed him absently tinkering with everything in her lab from the ancient toaster to Darcy’s iPad – she somehow couldn’t imagine Tony Stark procrastinating in any such fashion. “Was it that bad?”

“I think he was just bored. Tony’s not a hell of a lot of fun when he’s bored.” She tapped her pen against her teeth in what seemed to be an unconscious gesture, and smiled. “And if he’s out sparring with a demi-god, well, I just haven’t got the technology to compete with that.”

The fondness in her voice lit sudden curiosity, and again a question escaped before she could quite rein it in. “Are you and he…?”

“Together?” The ironic curve of her smile indicated a question she’d fielded half a hundred times before, probably just in the last week. “Yes. No. To be honest, it’s _no_ at the moment, but only in the sense it’s not a physical thing.” Tilting her head, her voice resonated with easy affection. “We’ve known each other for so long that Tony’s quite aware I’m the only person who’s always going to be there to put up with his shit. And give it back to him. Because that’s the kicker, really. You have to take it and give it, because otherwise he just doesn’t know what to do with himself.”

“He’s lucky to have you.”

“I tell him so.” A strange expression flittered across her face, a half-emerged butterfly not yet sure how to fly; when she spoke, she seemed on the verge of embarrassment. “I…were you asking because you’re interested in him? Because I mean, I won’t say it’s a bad idea just because he’s a barely housebroken gigantic manchild – though he _is_ a barely housebroken gigantic manchild – but I thought you and Thor…?”

“Oh, yes. Me and Thor. I just…” A hand drifted to her lips, even though she knew that taste that lingered there still had to be in her imagination. “…I was curious.”

“I’ll tell you something.” Pepper raised her hands, spread her perfectly manicured nails wide, but it was the deep blue of her eyes that held Jane’s attention. “Tony is Tony, sure. He’ll drive you bonkers and he’ll drive you there at speed with all lasers firing and a good half-pint of scotch in his veins, but you will never have a better friend than him.”

She had to grin. “Really?”

“He’s loyal. And tenacious. He’s also a pain in the ass, but he tells me it’s part of his charm. Unfortunately I actually agreed with him once, it all went downhill from there.” Leaning closer to the screen, her small smile said even more than her subsequent words. “You say I’m lucky, but from the way I’ve heard him talk about you and Thor and even Darcy, you’ve got a friend for life in Tony. That makes you just as lucky.”

Jane could not help but smile back. “Thanks, Pepper.”

“It’s my pleasure.” Then her voice hardened, though a strong twinkle remained in her eye. “But if he does start driving you absolutely insane, give me a call, I’ll sort him out. Gladly, even.”

Jane gave her thanks again, then hung up. The ground trembled ominously below her feet, and she thought with exasperation that at least Coulson ought to have been sensible enough to take Tony and Thor further out. Wrapping her arms about her chest, Jane stepped out the door to stare at the gathering stormclouds. They stretched across the sky like blended Rorschach blots, and the realisation hit her with all the force of a flung ink bottle.

“God, are we _idiots_?”

Grabbing her jacket, Jane ran for the truck.

 

*****

 

That night, back in the trailer with its makeshift door, Jane curled up on her bed and stared at it. Thick and wooden, it made her feel like she lived in a hobbit hole. When she’d said as much, Tony had looked between her and Thor and started saying something very much in the vein of _if the shoe fits_ ; he’d been maybe halfway through when Darcy had kicked him in the shins.

“So much for gratitude,” he’d grumbled, but had offered her a bed in his own trailer all the same, a sleek silver monstrosity he’d had towed over from the government camp near the Bifröst site. She’d declined. Hobbit hole or not, it was still nobody’s but hers.

It was also nice to be away from the bustle and business of a dozen people who seemed to delight in being underfoot; once Thor and Tony had ended their spar, in such high testosterone-laced spirits she’d thought both of them no more than twelve, they’d spent most of the afternoon out at the Bifröst site. The urge to kick herself still welled up now and then, given the ridiculous realisation she’d come to. From the beginning they’d been utilising storm potential to open the bridge, and while waiting for another somehow they’d all forgotten entirely that Thor himself could generate such things at will with Mjölnir to hand.

The resultant conversation between Heimdall and Thor had been almost private; even Jane herself had only observed from a distance. There’d been no sign of his father, which had disappointed her. Thor had never really spoken of what he might have said to his family about her, and considering her only experience of them was via his brother, she had to think there was something happier to be had there. Especially as she’d never be able to introduce him to her own father.

Later, they’d stood with Coulson in one of the too-white conversation cubicles as Thor had given his report. “Heimdall is aware of other bridges, coming from other realms,” he’d concluded. “Not one aside from your own has crossed into Asgard. Unfortunately, he is not sure where the bridges generate from. Their appearances are too erratic, and his sight too scattered to be sure. But although Loki had been known to bypass his sight in the past, he has not seen Loki amongst these new bridges.”

Coulson, as usual, had been utterly unimpressed. “Loki could be helping these others. You’ve just said yourself he has the ability to hide himself from prying eyes.”

And Thor’s lips had thinned to nearly nothing. “We shall see.”

Still buzzing from his sparring session, Thor had then suggested he fly to New York under his own power – Darcy was already begging to be allowed to auction rides for Air Mjölnir on eBay – but Tony couldn’t act as his wingman and the logistics seemed tricky otherwise. Any lingering disappointment vanished as he took great pleasure in the novelty of boarding the plane. As she watched it ascend, Jane just hoped Mjölnir didn’t interfere with the navigation systems on the aircraft. It didn’t exactly have a flight mode.

Alone in the trailer now, she rolled over to stare instead at the still night beyond her window. She’d only had the one drink with Tony, but being so sleep-deprived meant even that one glass left her feeling dizzy. It had seemed far healthier to leave Tony to the bottle and return to her own bed. But as she lay on her back now, remembering how it had been when Thor had held her in his arms, she had never felt so wide awake.

_“I wish to do nothing that would dishonour you, Jane.”_

She wasn’t at all sure what he’d meant by that; it wasn’t as if she had any real idea of how Asgardian courtships tended to proceed. But then if he was staying the year he’d mentioned, she supposed she would have opportunity itself to find out after all. Wrapping her arms about her own body, she closed her eyes and sank into memory: the warmth of him, the strength of his body pressed against hers. The faintest shiver of fear tagged along behind the more pleasant of her thoughts. She could not help but wonder: in the heat of the moment, would he forget that strength, forget her mortality? Given his tales of the battles he had fought, she suspected his body could take far more than her own.

Still her breath began to come quicker, cheeks burning with a sudden high flush. _What’s wrong with you?_ she thought, but still her hand moved down.

“You know, I do feel honour bound to inform you of my presence before this goes any further.” The sudden voice paused, then snorted. “Not that many would attribute _honour_ to a list of my qualities. Although I do like to surprise people, at least a little, from time to time.”

Jane rocked upward with a shriek, found a dark figure leaning against the tiny bench just bare feet from where she had lain. With her fists bunched impotently in her sheets, she gritted her teeth and glared. “What are you doing here?”

“Visiting.” He raised a hand, examined the nails in a gesture that had to be purposely as cliché as possible. “I’ve never been one to stand on invitations.”

“Thor said you wanted a year to decide! It hasn’t even been a day.”

If he was surprised he’d spoken to her of it, he did not show it. “I said I had no desire to speak with _him_ again for the period of one Midgard year,” he said, and cocked his head in curious derision. “That agreement had nothing to do with you.”

Jane answered with silence, hands aching from the force of her grip. Yet she had no-where else to do, nothing else to do, even as she yearned to leap up, grab him by his ridiculously expensive lapels, and scream at him: _why do you have to hurt him like this? Hasn’t he suffered enough?_

“Do you wish to call your bodyguard?” he asked, and waved one gloved hand in the vague direction of Tony’s trailer. “I have no particular objection.”

“What, so you can break down my door again?” she asked tartly, and he almost looked amused.

“I never repeat myself, Dr. Foster. Unless we’re talking about multiple illusory clones, in which case I could repeat myself a thousand times over and still find it in me to do it again.”

“That’s a dirty trick.”

“Illusion. Actually.” After a long moment’s pause, he gave a delicate cough. “So you’re not going to call your Iron Man?”

“He doesn’t belong to me.” Forcing her hands to relax, she pulled her legs up underneath her and kept her head held high. “What do you even want?”

“To ask you a few questions.”

“Like what?”

“Have you truly considered the logistics of your long-term long-distance relationship?” Her jaw must have dropped several inches, but he still kept that that half-bored yet inquisitive tone. “You are a mortal. You will die. He will not.”

“I…” The word rasped along her throat like sandpaper; swallowing did nothing to relieve the burn. “That’s none of your business.”

“Isn’t it?”

She shook her head so hard her hair whipped painfully across her eyes. “You’re just screwing with me.”

“I have no particularly desire to screw with you.”

“No, you want to screw with your brother,” she snapped back, unintended; his resultant bark laughter was sudden and strange, and in fact it almost doubled him over. When he straightened, the green eyes were cold and his mouth wide. Her nails dug deep into her palms as she stared and felt ice solidifying in her veins.

“…don’t you?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” The smile began to fade, but his still body remained animated, caught up in the resonation of his amusement. “Do I?”

Her body sagged with the weight of relief mixed with deep abiding suspicion. “You lied to me?”

The slim shoulders moved up, down. “Perhaps.”

“Why would you lie about something like _that_?”

“Why do I lie about anything?”

The easy nonchalance felt like nails driven through her feet. “Because you can?”

“Close enough.” Already he was lapsing again into the guise of a watcher, his lean body almost motionless while his quick mind moved swift as always behind the green frosted glass of his expressive eyes. “You never told him what I said, then.”

“No.”

“Now that’s irony, isn’t it?” When she gave him a mutinous look, he grinned again, brief and brilliant. “I’m the known liar and yet you think he’d believe me over you.”

“No…he just _wants_ to believe you. I think that’s the important part.”

“I’d be a fool not to recognise that myself,” he said, and not without irony. “But I am curious. How do you think this is going to end, Dr. Foster? Do you really see this as being like a fairytale, where you get to go back to the magical kingdom upon a shining shimmering rainbow bridge to marry Asgard’s greatest hero and heir to the throne? Do you really want to stand at his right hand, to give him the counsel of a trusted consort and act as queen regent in his absences?”

Again her mouth opened, and nothing came out.

“Falling in love was the easy part,” he advised, and if not for the cold shimmer across his gaze he might have sounded sympathetic. “Hitting the ground is when it really gets interesting.” All façade of gentleness then faded clean away. “Ask me how I know.”

Jane swallowed hard, gave a jerky shake of her head. “I don’t need your help.”

“Hmm, but I think you do.” Crossing his arms, he inclined his eyes first one way, and then the next, deep thought settling across his sharp features like a veil. “Not about your relationship with my once-brother. That will settle itself, given enough time. Though I should ask, perhaps, has he ever actually offered to bring you home to Asgard? Even once?”

Answering with silence made her feel a fool and a child, but yet again she had nothing to say.

“I thought not,” he observed, with only the vaguest sense of pleasure. “But no matter. There’s something else I wish to tell you now.”

“I don’t need your help!” she exploded, sudden and sharp, and only his blink betrayed any surprise.

“Has Dr. Selvig ever mentioned his companion cube?”

Jane sank back on her heels. “What?”

The smile had more teeth than it had any logical right to. “I am sorry. The _cosmic_ cube. They call it an energy source, though I must assure you that it is more than that – but then, what do you expect of three dimensional creatures toying with something better suited to four? And yet despite their breathtaking ignorance, with even more breathtaking arrogance they are attempting to harness its power in New York as we speak.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It would almost be for the best if you never knew. But I shall tell you all the same – they wish to use its power to open Einstein-Rosen bridges at will and whim. Dr. Selvig has been utilising your data in order to aid the SHIELD agents there in their endeavours, while they leave you to rot in this little desert shack.”

Jane swallowed hard, almost choked on it. “That’s a lie.”

“Oh, dear. So he really hasn’t told you then.” Pity came so easily to his voice, as did every other emotion; each word he spoke was only another shade of the chameleon. “Don’t look so surprised, Dr. Foster. I hardly have a monopoly on lies. Not even on those told to loved ones.”

“Get out.”

“But I’m being so very helpful.” And indeed he did not move, offering instead the information, “Dr. Selvig is going to call you to New York City tomorrow. He went with Thor, you see. And all without telling you! But even with that in mind, I do suggest you do not go.”

Bitter frustration welled up in her chest, spilled over her tongue so that it burned, left her words harsh and half-broken. “And I suggest you stop trying to ruin Thor’s life just because you’ve ruined your own.”

“Temper, temper, Dr. Foster.” The only chink in his serene armour was the pity in the shake of his head. “If you don’t listen, you will only make his life so much the harder.”

“I think no-one’s going to manage that quite as well as you.”

“Yes, well, we all have our little talents, don’t we.” All humour vanished as too-green eyes fixed upon hers, his voice cajoling and very nearly hypnotic. “Trust me, Dr. Foster.”

“No, thanks. I like living.”

“Which is exactly why you ought to.”

The reality of Loki never proved to be anything like what she had imagined from Thor’s stories. Though he was watchful now, she recalled his madness, his fury, his misery -- but he had saved all those for his brother. For her, he was cool and calm and even when she knew otherwise she could not imagine him ever being any other way.

Behind them, the door opened. Tony, a welding mask hooked up on his head and wearing heavy gloves, climbed the steps even as he stared at something in his hands. “Jane, I was just wondering—oh.” He lowered what seemed to be some sort of motherboard, dark eyes watchful even as they widened. “Sorry. Didn’t realise you had company.”

Jane winced as she waited for the encore, though Loki’s hands remained at his sides; his lips quirked upward all the same. “Ah. Mr. Stark, I presume?”

“Mr. Thor’s brother, I presume?”

That answer seemed to be the right one, although then again Jane wasn’t sure Loki’s growing grin was actually a good sign. “Yes, well, we have met before – under slightly less auspicious circumstances.”

“You pushed me through the door.”

“I did, yes.”

Pulling the mask free, Tony dropped it on the bench and crossed his arms; his eyebrows had crawled up towards his hairline. “Not cool, dude. I don’t usually go that far on a first date.”

“Oh, so such things are regarded as a Midgardian courting ritual?” Loki shifted his weight, cocked his head to one side. “I did not realise. Perhaps next time we might try a window, then. Just to keep it interesting.”

“Buy me a drink, first.”

“It could be arranged.” The smile began to fade somewhat, though Jane saw that the watchfulness of his eyes had never dimmed, like a snake gauging its prey even as it felt the vibrations of its every movement through the ground below. “I am glad you are here.”

“Oh, so you do want to play rough?” With an exaggerated sigh, Tony leaned against the wall and wriggled his fingers. “Well, you know, the party never starts ‘til I get there.”

“I wished to apologise.”

“For what? Being batshit insane?” His brow furrowed. “You can’t apologise for that.”

“Why not?”

“It sounds ridiculous.”

“Then I won’t apologise.”  His mobile facial expressions seemed so very at odds with the stillness of his lean body in its well-tailored suit. “Though I will think of you next time I feel the urge to remodel a window.”

 “Great, I’ll start picking out curtains.” Now he straightened, leaned forward over the bench between the stairwell and the trailer proper. “What are you even doing here?”

Tony’s increased proximity had no visible effect on Loki’s composure. “I had a message for Dr. Foster.”

“Yeah, well, next time you can do it through me or Thor. No need to go creeping on beautiful young things in the middle of the night, yeah?”

“You do not consider yourself a beautiful young thing?”

“Yeah, but I’ve never met anyone who could outcreep me.” Finally Tony climbed upward, stood perhaps a foot away from the still pseudo-Aesir. Though it only emphasised their height difference, the trailer far too small for the combined force of their personalities anyway, Tony’s stance remained relaxed. “Look, what do you want?”

“I have finished here.” He flicked his eyes back to Jane for the barest of moments. “Therefore I shall take my leave.”

“Yeah, shove your leave in your GQ pocket and take it outside. _Right_ outside.”

The smile this time was thin, but Jane still swallowed hard. No matter what else he was, Loki remained startlingly beautiful – especially when his lips curved upwards and his eyes shone with humour, malicious as it was. “Will you get the door for me, Mr. Stark?”

“Don’t start.”

“It began long ago.” The bow he dipped them both was low enough for respect, but exaggerated for mockery; then he had disappeared and it no longer mattered. Still on the bed, with her legs asleep beneath her, Jane felt she could breathe again. Then Tony’s dark eyes moved from the empty space where Loki had been to fix upon her, and she felt it stolen away once again.

“Jane?”

“Yeah?” she croaked.

“Why didn’t you call me the second he arrived?”

“I…there wasn’t time.”

And she felt such an idiot under that gaze. It was not angry, nor even something quite like pitying. Disappointment shone bright instead, and then he looked away. As she watched he pulled the heavy gloves off, and a sudden shock jolted through her. Beneath them he wore something that looked like the arms of his suit, but pared down to the barest framework; like metal tendons they flowed from elbow to wrist to end in a half-glove anchored at the first knuckle of each finger, a gleaming disc held in the palm of each hand.

He looked up, found her staring, and spared a wry grin. “This is as incognito as I get,” he said, flicking a series of small hydraulic switches that snapped first one, then the other open. As he slid them off like a snail sheedding an expensive shell, his shirtsleeves left trailing leads from the unseen arc reactor in his chest. “I’m pretty sure he knew I had them, but I wasn’t convinced coming in with all guns blazing was going to be the best course of action.”

“You knew he was here?”

“I had an idea.” She didn’t have the nerve to ask how even as he left the gauntlets on the sideboard, slid into a seat at her tiny fold-out table. “Look, Jane – sometimes we think it’s best to deal with this shit alone, but…” He raised his hands, then let them fall like the metaphorical house of cards. “Trust me on this one. I know. It’s not worth it.”

She looked down at her own hands, found she had nothing more to say.

“I mean, yeah, you’re an extraordinary person. But don’t kid yourself into thinking you can deal with someone like that on your own. I wouldn’t try it, and I’m Tony fucking Stark. I mean, that shitprick Clint even got Steve to etch a picture of a lone wolf on my alleged locker once.”

Even though she knew he was just goading her into a reaction, she couldn’t help but bite at that one. “You’re a lone wolf?”

“I’m a _Stark_. It’s supposed to be a goddamn direwolf.”

Though some part of her still just wanted to cry, somehow she managed to laugh instead. “You know, Tony, ninety percent of the time I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Honey, nobody’s perfect.” But even though he’d removed the gauntlets, they were not far from his steady fingers, particularly not when he added with a casualness not reflected in his eyes, “So what did he want?”

Silence fell, again. His quizzical look felt like a taser to the heart, jolting the words out of her. “There’s something I never told Thor about Loki’s original visit.”

“What?”

Jane bit her lip, and though she didn’t break the skin the ghosts of salt and iron felt heavy upon her tongue. “He…implied that I wasn’t good enough for him.”

“Well, there’s two ways of looking at that. First, you have to remember that he’s from another world, and so by their standards maybe he has a point. However, on the other hand? He’s bugshit insane. How far are you going to trust his opinion?”

That pragmatism brought Darcy to mind, and Jane gave a tremulous smile; no matter how often Darcy drove her to distraction, she’d so often been the only one to make her laugh when her research seemed like so many wasted dreams. She’d been lucky enough to have just Darcy, and Pepper was right: Tony Stark was worth his weight in whatever gold titanium alloy he was using these days. Still, her smile faded again. “It’s not just that, though.”

“Jane.” He leaned forward over the table, dark eyes reflective and still. “I don’t like being serious, so I’m going to make this quick – Thor won some sort of inter-realm lottery when you decided to hook up with him. Don’t go thinking you’re not the prize he wants, because you’re not a prize at all. You’re the woman he fought to be with – the woman who fought to be with him. Don’t throw that all away because his brother’s got issues that are nothing to do with you.”

Her throat felt very dry, made her words even smaller. “Loki told me there’s someone else who would be far better at his side.”

“What, so now he’s matchmaking his big brother? Jesus, I’m an only child and even I know that’s a big no-no when the last time you hung out it involved setting fire to all the bars in Puente Antiguo.”

Jane passed both hands back through her hair, feeling a pounding begin low in her temples. “I don’t know how much of it you’ve caught, but…Thor and Loki aren’t actually related. Not by blood.”

“Huh.” He propped his chin up on one fist.” No, I hadn’t heard that.”

“Loki said he was always intended to be at Thor’s side, as his brother and his advisor. Now that he is no longer his brother…” Bitter gall filled her throat. “I don’t know how serious he’s being, but…he told me the only way he can have that place now is as his consort.”

“His…oh. _Oh_.” Somewhat to her surprise, Tony didn’t actually seem that surprised himself; he did however look like he was stumbling face-first into a headache of his own. “I’m getting that _Game of Thrones_ vibe again.”

Jane just stared, certain he’d elaborate whether she asked him to or lot. A moment later, he did, the words a cold slice into her heart.

“All the incest aside for a minute, it’s a pretty simple game – because you play, or you die. Though I’m getting the impression it’s a game Loki’s always playing and as a demi-god you have to wonder if he _can_ actually die.” Leaning back as far as the chair allowed – which admittedly wasn’t far at all – he shook his head. “You really didn’t tell Thor about this?”

“No. It seemed…I don’t know. How do you even tell somebody that? _Hey, your brother’s not really your brother, so now he wants to get back into the family as your wife._ What even _is_ that?”

“Yeah, it’s always the really good looking ones who turn out to be completely bugfuck insane. Why is that?”

“I….what?” Rubbing her temple, Jane began to wonder if talking to Tony when he was in this mood was actually any better than Loki in any mood. “You actually swing that way?”

“Nah, not generally – but I’m all for equal opportunity and sticking with the ladies kind of cuts the pool down by half. And I’ve already swum a good few lengths in that pool. Besides, shouldn’t everyone deserve a crack at the Stark?”

She wanted to laugh. She only just managed a grimace instead. “This is a serious conversation.”

“I know. I’m a tool.” Poking at the left hand with one finger, he pushed it across the table towards her. “I think I was just concerned about his kids.”

“Whose kids?” Her heart tightened. “Thor’s?”

“Loki’s.” Lacing his fingers together, he gave her a look that suggested something close to disbelief. “Haven’t you seen the stories? The serpent, the eight-legged horse, the wolf?” Running his fingers back through his hair, he gave a low whistle. “I mean, I’ve had dates that have gone a bit feral, but even I’ve got to draw a line somewhere. It’s one thing for someone to come back with a paternity suit for some chubby little baby with oatmeal in its hair, it’s quite another if the SPCA are the ones on the other end of the kid’s leash.”

“Tony, honestly—”

This time he held up a hand. One of his disembodied hands, in fact. “I know, I know. I’m talking out my ass again. I’m just trying to say that we don’t know anything about Asgardian marriage custom – maybe brother could marry sister, even when blooded. And from all the stories we’ve got flying around down here, it sounds like Loki could even give his brother heirs.”

Jane was suddenly very glad she hadn’t attempted to stand; her knees had turned to water beneath her even while seated. “So you’re saying you’re _okay_ with this?”

“I’m saying you need to talk to Thor.” Clever fingers moved in something like a timpani roll across the cheap wood of her table. “Because from everything I’ve heard about Loki, he’s going to try and play you off one another. The second you started keeping secrets, he started winning. Yeah?”

Pulling her knees up to her chin, wrapping her arms about her shins, Jane half-hid her face. “But Thor loves him,” she said, hating that she sounded so very pathetic. “I think he had the game advantage in the first place.”

“Maybe, but I’m pretty sure he loves you too, babydoll.”

 _We barely knew each other for a week_ , she thought, but no matter how desperate she felt Jane couldn’t think that Tony Stark was going to be able to give her much in the way of relationship advice. Therefore, she raised her face, gave a small shrug. “Thor said most of those stories weren’t true. The Norse ones, I mean. There were _bits_ that were, but…”

“…his brother never gave birth to a horse? That’s good news. I wouldn’t want to end up on Jerry Springer with a dude whose ex is some half-crazed prize stallion from another realm of complete and utter insanity.”

Again, the laugh escaped her before she could tighten a noose about its treacherous little neck. “Tony, please don’t hit on Thor’s crazy little brother.”

“I’m Tony Stark. I make no promises.” At the _look_ Jane gave him, he threw his hands up in put-upon despair. “Come on! For all we know, all the poor bastard needs is just one good goddamned hug or something. Shouldn’t we at least give it a shot?”

Jane suspected Coulson for one might be willing to authorise such novel force, though not out of any belief it would work. Tony didn’t actually wait for the answer – he appeared to have a sixth sense for the inevitable and invited her back to his trailer. She turned him down with less regret that she thought was healthy for self-preservation, though in her own trailer she lay awake most of the night.

Even when she did fall asleep a mere hour before dawn, she found herself up again with the sun; it seemed for the best, for it was just after seven when the call from New York came through. She answered the secure line with something like resignation, and wondered if it was too late to become a fatalist after all.

“Thor.”

“Jane.” He leaned close to the screen, as if sheer force of will would bring them within touching distance. “We need you here.”

She stared at his beloved, earnest face; in the silence that followed she almost heard his brother whispering over her shoulder.

_I hardly have a monopoly on lies. Not even on those told to loved ones._

“Jane? Will you come?”

And she had no idea what to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note on chapter titles -- they tend to just be songs I'm listening to while writing. Not many of them probably have a lot to do with the story, it's just the way my playlists are. However, I have had Poe's "Haunted" in my head while thinking of Loki lately. Oh, dear.


	5. Song of Caterpillars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jane plays Solitaire, Air Mjolnir continues flying the friendly skies, Tony starts thinking Pepper is still randomly possessing his newest friends, and Loki discovers the point to a calming cup of tea while forgetting the sit-down entirely.
> 
> Also, Coulson still isn't getting paid enough for this shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, this chapter felt like pulling teeth, so I apologise if everything's turning to rubbish at this point. As I've said before I don't know a heck of a lot about comics-continuity and I'm trying to avoid movie spoilers for "The Avengers," so the cube and I are off on our own little four dimensional tangent. I apologise for anything that strikes anyone as particularly ridiculous in my intepretation of its influence.
> 
> Also, after a trying couple of days at work I spent all of Saturday mainlining "The Almighty Johnsons," which has totally skewered my view of Norse gods for the weekend. It particularly didn't help that Olaf went tripping on peyote and thought someone's cat was Loki, or that Eva and Axl had an exchange that went: "So what's Loki do, then?" "I don't know, god of wankers, probably."
> 
> I never realised there was so much fun to be had in Asgard. <3 I just hope I manage to share some of that fun in this next chapter.

“Brought you some more coffee.”

Jane only made the vaguest of acknowledgements as the cup was set down just out of range of stray elbows, returning to the model she was grappling with. She’d been fighting with the damned thing for hours, but then she suspected the fact that she forgot what she was doing approximately two seconds after starting didn’t help.

“You know, you could say _thank you_.”

Grimacing, Jane curled her fingers around her stylus and stabbed viciously at the tablet. The modelled vortex paused in its spin, disintegrated, and she only just resisted the urge to punt the pen through the nearest pane of glass. “I didn’t ask you to bring it. It was your own idea.”

“Ooh, you got me on a technicality.” Jane didn’t bother responding to Darcy’s mocking tone, just closed the file without saving. She’d brought up an earlier version and had set the damn thing in motion again when Darcy spoke up, still somewhere behind her. “Bet you thought that’d get rid of me. Well, bad news.”

Her first instinct was to tell her to get out. Then, she put the stylus down, hooked a foot around one leg of the table, and spun her chair. Pushing back the loose hair that had fallen from her sloppy ponytail, she opened her eyes wide and sighed pathetically. “Thank you, Darcy.”

“Ha, nice try.” Crossing her arms over her chest, iPod’s earbuds dangling, Darcy leaned back against the nearest bench. “I’m still not going anywhere.”

“Darcy, _honestly_.” Rubbing at her eyes, she wished she could work out where in the hell she had left her reading glasses. The ache of her head beat like a tambourine, and she couldn’t help but look at Darcy with both frustration and shame. “I’m in a horrible mood. Why would you even want to be around me right now?”

Her cardiganned shoulders moved up, down; only the way one hand fiddled with an earbud betrayed her otherwise flawless aura of hipster serenity. “I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine.”

“Geez, wasn’t born yesterday. Or even the day before.” Now she hooked her hands about the lip of the desk, pushed herself up so her sneakers dangled. “Are you really angry at Erik, then?”

Jane opened her mouth, then closed it. Darcy shrugged off her silence.

“I know it sucks, that he never told you that they were getting him to do extra stuff on the side. But really, does it matter?”

For some reason she was smiling, tight and taunt; she supposed it was somehow meant to stop the hot tears from spilling forth. “It was _my_ research. He’s taken off with my research!”

“You don’t know that.” Trying to drum her heels on thin air, Darcy frowned. “He’s been doing this stuff for years, right? Since before you were born. I remember him even saying he used to work with your dad.”

“Which just makes it worse, in my opinion.”

The way Darcy’s eyes flashed seemed to say she was willing to concede her that much, at least, though her casual cajoling didn’t change. “I’m sure he wanted to tell you before now.”

Her hand slapped down on the desk; annoyingly, Darcy didn’t jump. “So why didn’t he?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, neither do I,” she muttered, and spun around to pick up her stylus again. Running it back and forth over the tablet to kill the screensaver, she purposefully did not look at Darcy; the younger woman just sighed.

“Yeah, but that’s mostly because you’re sitting here sulking when you could have gone to New York and asked him yourself. And then you could have played with some shiny new datasets and don’t even _dream_ of telling me that you didn’t want to do that. I know what a massive nerd you are.” She sat on a desk just close enough to stretch out one leg and poke her with the end of one bright sneaker. “But here you are instead, getting all precious just because he was probably told to keep his mouth shut by a bunch of guys with guns and the power to wipe his identity off the planet if he didn’t play along.”

“Are you saying you think they’re threatening him?” Shaking off Darcy’s foot, she turned just enough to give her an incredulous look. “We’re working for them too, Darcy, if you didn’t notice. That’s hardly going to make me feel any better.”

“Well, maybe not,” she said, chewing absently on one nail as she scrunched up her nose in deep thought. “Just going for the dramatic angle, sorry. And Phil’s a pussycat, you know…once you get a few drinks into him, I mean.”

“I don’t want to know,” she muttered, turning back to her work. It still didn’t stop her adding, “Besides, he’s got to be, like, twenty years older than you. And I’m sure he’s _married_.”

“Drinking buddy. Geez. Give me some credit for taste. Just because I’m a political scientist, doesn’t mean I’m all about poontang.”

Jane paused, but didn’t turn around. “Darcy?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m working.”

The rustle of her bag, followed by the rasp of paper on cardboard, told Jane she was digging out a stick of gum. A moment later, she spoke around it. “So work.”

Jane did – or at least, she went back to shuffling around numbers and creating projections that collapsed so quickly under the weight of their impossible geometries that she had to wonder why she even bothered. She felt fairly certain that even Darcy, who had very little instinct for the models aside from _ooh, shiny!_ could have done better. Yet despite that Darcy kept her mouth shut, a single earbud worn on the left, watching her from atop the desk she’d commandeered. After perhaps half an hour she stood, disappeared without a word. Jane just barely suppressed a wince. She had a feeling Darcy was going for the not-so-secret weapon.

Even though Jane braced herself from the moment Darcy vanished, some time passed with no sign of anyone. She had to wonder if it was that she couldn’t locate said secret weapon, or if she was trying to lull her into a false sense of security. Then, just as she was wrestling with a particularly odd algorithm, a body threw itself down into a chair and pushed over to her. She didn’t need to look up to know that Tony would have one elbow on the desk, chin in palm as he stared at her in perfect deductive curiosity.

“So why didn’t you go?”

“I don’t _know_.” When she flung her arms upward pages of data went everywhere, fluttering wings that didn’t know how to fly; they then became snow that buried her like an avalanche. “Dammit, Tony, can’t you just leave me alone and let me get on with my work?”

He blinked, unmoving amongst the storm. “You’re pushing paper around and playing Solitaire. That’s not work.”

“I don’t care!”

He reached down, bent in the chair like a pretzel; a moment later he came up with the stylus she’d dropped held triumphantly aloft. “Look, if you want me to leave, I will,” he said, pushing the thing into her half-responsive hand. “But I think you actually want company.”

She snatched it back. “What, because you’re Tony goddamned Stark?”

“Because I’m not going to take offense at that as I realise you’re not really angry at me,” he said, surprisingly sensible for a man who’d once been caught body-surfing in a multi-million dollar armoured suit. He then frowned. “Also, because I’m Tony _fucking_ Stark, thank you very much.”

Wondering again why she ever tried to be a hard-ass when it only left her feeling like a world-class prick, Jane sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Eh, water under the bridge. If I took offense every time someone told me to go fuck myself, I’d have more offense than investment futures.” Passing a hand back through his hair, he shrugged. “Honestly, Jane, I’m not here to be a pain in the ass.”

“You’re just that good at it?”

The look he gave her just screamed _you couldn’t resist it, could you_. “I play to my strengths.”

Unable to argue with that, Jane let it lie. Flicking her attention back to the computer screen, she noticed that there was at least one move she could make. Then she tabbed it back to the Bifröst model and wondered if she shouldn’t just take up Minesweeper or something.

“Are you just going to sit there and stare at me then?” she asked, craning back around to Tony; he gave that what looked like actual thought.

“I could wake up JARVIS, piss him off instead,” he concluded finally, though his breezy tone didn’t suit the steel of his steady gaze. “Or we could talk.”

“I’m not sure it’s going to help.” Finally reaching for Darcy’s cold coffee, Jane screwed up her nose and threw half of it back. Spluttering at the unholy taste, she muttered, “Is this even what they’re paying you for?”

“What, you want me to get in my suit and stand outside the door like some metal-clad overpriced bouncer?” Tony picked up her abandoned cup, frowned at what he found there. “Good to know you think I’m just the hired muscle. Maybe I ought to just go get you some coffee, or something.”

“That’s not it! I just…”

The look he gave her, both sympathetic and exasperated, spoke volumes. “I’m here because I want to be,” he said, and waved one arm about the bank of monitors. “This stuff, it’s all fascinating in its own right, but…” He dropped his arm, shrugged. “I like you guys.”

Jane gave him a sceptical look she didn’t entirely mean, and he nodded.

“No, seriously. They could’ve sent Clint and Natasha over. Or even Steve, if it came down to it. _Steve_.” Again he seemed to be contemplating something well beyond Jane’s understanding; though a moment later he waved a hand and let it go. “But I volunteered, and here I am.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “You volunteered?”

“Well, not the first time. But definitely the second. You guys are just too much fun to turn down – and I even managed to get into a beatdown with a Norse god and not come off needing a panelbeater. That’s just awesome.”

The resonating excitement beneath his words almost made him sound twelve; Jane couldn’t hide a small smile. “He was probably going easy on you.”

“Don’t _you_ start,” he said cheerfully, then added, “So did you tell him?”

The conversational slalom hit her hard. It seemed even worse, that she knew exactly what he was talking about. “Tony. We were on _Skype_. There are some things you just don’t do on Skype. Like, break up with people. Or tell them that their crazy adoptive baby brother might want to marry them sometime in the very near future.”

“I’m pretty sure there’s been weirder stuff on Skype.”

“And I’m pretty sure at least some of it came from you.”

He leaned back in his chair, put his hands behind his head, and shrugged with supreme satisfaction. “Why deny the inevitable?”

“Tony, I couldn’t.” Her gaze moved down to her hands, to the stylus she still threaded between her fingers. “Besides, I don’t even know if he’s telling the truth.”

Straightening up again, Tony moved with whiplash speed from casual to curious. “You do realise the difference between a liar and a trickster, right?”

“What?”

“Just because he’s not telling the truth, it doesn’t actually mean he’s lying.” He reached for a pen, snatched up a piece of paper; even as he went on he began to scribble furiously, and she wondered what had happened to his ever-present tablet. “It’s false logic.”

“I was never into logic games.”

“But Loki seems to be. That’s your problem.” Stashing the paper in one pocket, he aimed the pen at a holder, missed the shot. “Look, whether you wanted in or not, you’re both playing the game now – and as long as you only do it half-heartedly, you’re playing it just the way he wants you to.”

Jane felt frustration well up like the magma of a restless volcano. “I can’t tell Thor what he said.”

“You told me.”

“You’re not Thor.” As soon as she snapped the words, guilt crawled through her; it wasn’t Tony’s fault she was in this ridiculous position, and she gave him a watery smile. “Also, I think you’re kind of a pervert.”

“Thanks.” It was no surprise whatsoever that he looked pleased with himself. “And in retrospect, you know, it’s a pity I’m not actually made of iron.”

“No, you’re made of flesh and blood.” This time she had absolutely no idea what he was getting at. “What the hell’s that got to do with anything?”

“I swear to god, Pepper, if you don’t stop randomly possessing my shiny new friends…” Waving one hand in dismissal, he jerked a thumb backward in what she supposed was the direction of the trailer he’d christened The Love Shack for reasons she thought she’d best not ask about. “I meant the damn suit.”

“I know.” Still, her frown grew. “It’s not made of iron?”

“Shh, secret squirrel. Don’t want that getting around. Disappoints the ladies, going by the look on your face.” But even as she figured she must have realised this – they didn’t make commercial airliners out of heavy metals for a reason – Tony continued on his little tangent. “But this magic stuff…they say that the fae are vulnerable to iron.”

“The fae?” She’d never been much for fairytales and make-believe outside of childhood ballet classes; it took a moment for her to make the connection. “You mean Loki?”

“Yeah. I mean, you told me Thor said that Midgardian science and Asgardian magic aren’t so different – or at least, aren’t completely incompatible. I’m just thinking outside the square.”

“Maybe way too far. Loki’s Asgardian, he’s not a fairy.”

He’d retrieved a fresh pen, and was now tapping it against his lips. “Mmm, from what you said, he’s Jotun.”

“That’s still a giant. Aren’t fairies tiny?” She pulled her thumb and her index finger about as far back as they’d go, held up her hand. “Like, yea big?”

“Probably wouldn’t say that in his hearing if I were you,” Tony said, one eyebrow arched high. “Though he is pretty short for a giant, now that you mention it.”

“He’s still taller than you.”

“Thanks for that, halfling.”

“And they say you’re _charming_.” But even through the sour note Jane couldn’t stop laughing; from the expression on Tony’s face, he was just warming up. But before he could say another word a thump caught their attention. Darcy leaned on another of the desks, panting hard; Jane climbed to her feet though Tony was already there.

“Guys.” When she looked up, Jane saw she’d gone white as a sheet. “There are a bunch of SHIELD dudes out front.”

“What?” Turning, Jane saw three trucks parked on the street; men in black piled out like heavily armed clowns from a joke car, their movements as grim as they were efficient. “What’s going on?”

Tony had his tablet in hand, fingers dancing over the screen. “No-one told me anything,” he muttered, and then looked up at the figure striding towards them. “Coulson, what the hell? Could’ve sent a heads-up.”

Coulson stopped in front of them all, indicated the lead car. “There’s been a security breach.”

“What, at the Bifröst site?” Jane asked, hands wrapped about her upper arms; despite the easy heat of the New Mexico day, she felt suddenly very very cold. From the expression in Coulson’s eyes, he wasn’t feeling much better.

“No, in New York.”

“Where’s Thor?” Panic rose, threatened to leave her in an explosive eruption. “What’s happened to Thor?”

“Nothing – and he’s on his way back right now.”

Tony looked incredulous, something that only made Jane feel worse. “What, with Fury?”

“On his own. Raised that great damn hammer and just took off, according to our people on the ground there.”

“Shit,” Tony muttered, eyes already trained to the skies above. “D’you want me to go meet him?”

“I’d rather you stayed here.”

Darcy muttered something that Jane couldn’t quite make out, though she reached for her hand without question. Holding it tight, feeling Darcy’s fingers tighten in grateful acknowledgement, Jane stared at Coulson. “Are we in danger?”

“I honestly have no idea.” Clipped and competent, he was already indicating that they should follow him to the cars. “We need to get back to the Bifröst site.”

“Is this something to do with that cube?”

The look he gave her said volumes about what she was and wasn’t supposed to know. For that, she supposed she could at least thank Loki. At least, after she’d punched him upside the head. As if reading her mind, Coulson’s eyes darkened further. “Yes.”

But then, there was someone else to worry about first. She felt quite faint as she added, “Is Erik all right?”

“Just get in the car, Ms. Foster.”

She did, even though her legs didn’t want to work the way they were supposed to. Sandwiched between Tony and Darcy, Jane stared straight ahead and thought Tony had been right. She’d never wanted to play this game. But she had the feeling it was beyond time that she started reading the rules, though she doubted playing by them was the point anymore.

 

*****

 

“ _How_ many people are dead?”

Coulson had said nothing on the ride over, though Tony had seemed to be getting enough information under his own power to keep him satisfied. Since climbing into the car he’d been muttering into a headpiece to JARVIS in some sort of bizarre shorthand she couldn’t follow at all. Naturally it had earned him cool annoyance from Coulson, not that he’d actively tried to stop him – that Jane could see.

But standing in the central control room, she felt her stomach fall through the floor as she was given the same information that had turned Tony’s mobile features still, his lips grim and his eyes dark. And still his quick fingers moved in rapid staccato over the tablet he always seemed to have about him somewhere.

“Is Erik all right?” she repeated, again, and finally Coulson gave her an answer.

“Dr. Selvig is fine. He wasn’t in the compound during…during.”

“The attack?”

The word sat ill with him. “We’re not sure that that is what it was.”

“Something blew them the fuck up. That usually suggests something went a bit awry.”

The glare this earned Tony from Coulson should have struck him dead in the fashion of a lightning strike. Not that Tony seemed to notice, even when Coulson snapped, “It doesn’t necessarily follow that it was an external force that did it.”

“So they blew themselves up?” Tony pulled a projection from the tablet; the little hologram twirled around three times before he shoved it back with a deepening frown. “That’s a brilliant lot of thinkers you had there then, Phil. Next time skip the lemmings and get some scientists with a bit of self-preservation instinct, yeah?”

Jane might have thought him an asshole if not for the clear anger in everything that he said. Pushing a shaking hand back through her hair, she collapsed into the nearest chair and stared at Coulson. “So what actually happened?”

Reluctance slowed his response. “They were attempting to open another portal.”

“To Asgard?”

He shook his head, though her heart felt as though it had already sunk as low as it could go. “They were tracing it back along the paths we’ve been sensing it from.”

“Wow. That’s some _good thinking_ there, Phil. Opening cosmic doorways when you don’t know what’s on the other side.” Tony seemed only just able to resist the temptation to fling his tablet halfway across the situation room. “So am I going to have to punch out Cthulhu, or can we just get Steve to do it? Because I’m voting Steve. I mean, I’ll curbstomp a shoggoth if you pay me overtime, but I’m not touching Cthulhu with a ten foot cattleprod.”

“Thor is only about six foot,” Coulson said, and before Tony could even dream of acknowledging his entirely unexpected sense of humour, Coulson added, “And it’s not your job to worry about the portals.”

“No, apparently it’s to clean up the shit that comes through them.”

“It was a pre-emptive strike.”

“And it looks like those poor bastards got struck down, all right.”

“You’re saying you’ve been opening portals to other realms?” Jane’s hands clenched so tight she actually heard her knuckles pop. “Is that why you wanted Thor there? To tell you which it was?”

Going back to his furious tapping, Tony’s dark concern hung about him like a miasma of absolute fury. “Did he know?”

“We didn’t get that far.”

“So it was all for nothing?” His breath hissed between his teeth as paused over his tablet, muttered, “And they called _me_ the merchant of death.”

The dark expression of Coulson’s face sent a frisson of genuine fear through Jane’s gut; hurriedly she pulled his attention towards herself even as Tony completely ignored it. “And what about the cube?”

“Ah, yes, the cube.” Crossing his arms over his chest, his cool look could have matched a glacier’s passage. “I’m rather curious as to how you knew about it, Dr. Foster.”

“Erik mentioned it. When he wanted me to come to New York.” As she lied she set her jaw, though she realised SHIELD likely recorded every transmission that went through their servers. “You said before we came over that it was part of this.”

“It’s gone.”

“Gone?” The bald answer left her feeling like she’d been kicked in the stomach. “Gone _where_?”

“Guys?” Darcy, over by the window, turned around with something like an amalgamation of apprehension and relief. “Here’s Air Mjölnir, coming in for a landing.”

With four quick strides Tony joined her, craning upward. “Doesn’t look pleased.”

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.”

Jane had no idea how either of them thought they could tell, considering the distance between them all, but the sky had certainly turned black as his presumed mood. They’d just made it outside when Thor landed with all the force of a thunderbolt. The ground shook beneath them, groaning with the effort of supporting a god not of its own making; despite the noise Jane could have sworn she heard Coulson’s teeth grinding. But then it didn’t matter; Thor was striding across to her, Mjölnir snapping and sparking in his hand, and then she was in his arms and she had not known peace like this since the moment he’d first regained his godhood.

“I need to talk to Jane.” His brusque words, aimed squarely at Coulson, surprised her; usually his bulldozer approach to diplomacy came more from the fact he just didn’t realise he was supposed to ask for things. He just expected them, but then he was the son of a god and a king, was a god and an heir to the throne himself. Frustrating as it could be, Jane could see where it came from. But from the look he was giving Coulson now this was entirely intentional. And despite himself, Coulson could not hide the flicker of impressed unease in his eyes.

“We need to talk to you.”

Thor turned, one arm tight about Jane’s waist. “Not yet.”

They ended up in one of the anonymous rooms, its soundproofed silence utterly at odds with the clatter and clamber of everyone else around them. She felt as though they stood in the eye of the storm as he placed his great hands on her shoulders, went down to one knee. His eyes, somehow too blue to be a colour ever considered natural upon Earth, searched hers with calm purpose. Yet still she felt a wildness behind them.

“You are all right?” he asked, finally. She swallowed hard.

“I was here the whole time, Thor. I’m fine. I’m more worried about _you_.” Raising one hand, she pressed the palm against his cheek, feeling the heat contained there even beneath the rasp of his beard. “Are _you_ all right?”

“I am here. You are here.”

Despite the oddity of his behaviour, the situation, somehow she did not expect the kiss. And it burned. He had climbed to his feet again without once letting go, his hands cupped about her jaw as he rose like a god before her.

_But he is a god._

The force of his touch grew stronger, both in the movement of his hands and in the insistent press of his lips against hers. A palm to the small of her back drew her hips close to his, and she gasped; his lips pressed hard to the leaping pulse at the base of her jaw, and her own hands moved to his waist, scrabbling for purchase on the thick armour. His own hands felt to be everywhere; then, one slid beneath her shirt, calluses rasping against the trembling flesh of her side.

“Thor,” she gasped, held him tighter; for all he felt to have the heat of a burning forge, she felt as though she were drowning. “Thor, what—”

“I need to know.” He spoke the words against her collarbone, his hair prickling against her half-bruised lips. “I need it, Jane.”

“To know what?” she whispered, dizzied. He looked up, those too-blue eyes like jewels stolen from the deepest sea of the furthest world from her own.

“That you live.”

“I’m here, Thor.” Closing her eyes, she held on tighter even as she just let go. “I’m right here.”

There were no more words after that. Just the language of lips, of fingers, of two bodies seeking a rhythm to match that of their rapidly beating hearts. Only when he pressed her back to the wall did Jane open her eyes again. Dizzied, disoriented, with his face pressed to her chest and his lips warm on one breast, at first she could not work out where they were. It seemed they were in a crowd, and her heart stopped. Then, she realised – it was the mirrors. Digging her fingers into his armoured shoulders, trying to keep some semblance of balance as he removed one supporting hand to fumble at her waist, she thought vaguely that it reminded her of ballet class she had attended as a child. In those days, in those lessons, when she had moved a dozen others had moved with her. In the same way the reflections of this moment were all the same. Were all together. They held a perfect synchronicity with the music, harmony and melody rising together towards a furious crescendo.

Then, from the corner of one eye, she saw it. The single reflection, with no creature to cast it: the only one out of step. The only one out of time.

Loki.

“Thor.” She looked away, but the blazing green of those reflected eyes had burned deep upon her stuttering heart. Pushing at him, even as she knew him to be a force well beyond her ken, Jane turned her face away from his relentless kiss. “Thor, _stop_.”

It never ceased to amaze her, that Thor could let himself go with such abandon – and then call himself back under control just as quickly. Still half-dizzied from the potent sorcery of his touch, she had to wonder if that was the gift of a natural-born warrior. “Jane,” he said, and his voice rang hoarse against their shared harsh breathing. One hand rested upon her cheek, the other gently lowering her back to the ground. “I didn’t mean…I just…I needed to know…”

“I’m fine. So are you.” His hesitancy of speech sat at odds with the certainty of withheld motion she could still sense in his body, and even as her own body all but screamed for release she smiled, stepped back. “Let’s just…not rush this. There’s time.”

“I thought today that there might not be.”

“That was today.” Pushing her hair out of her face, her trembling fingers reached to adjust her bra, to begin to do up the shirt that was thankfully missing only two buttons. “Come on. Coulson and the others are waiting for us.”

Given the intricacies of his armour, Jane hadn’t succeeded at all in removing any of it; he barely needed to set himself to rights while Jane finished straightening her own clothes. Then she smiled again, held out her hand to him, and hoped he couldn’t see that she was still shaking. It hadn’t been the force of Thor’s unleashed affection that had frightened her, even as he began to apologise for it.

No, it had been the blankness in his brother’s smile as he had watched from the other side of the glass that had truly sent her heart into places far colder than she’d ever thought possible.

 

*****

 

The next morning dawned bright and clear, the sun bringing easy warmth even to the cool night of the desert. Jane knew so intimately; she was up on the roof to watch it unfold. Wrapped in tartan wool, she held her coffee mug in both hands and watched in silence. The emptiness of the chair beside her felt like a promise. Not that she wanted to think of who might have been the one to make said vow.

He’d have come back with her if she’d asked. She knew that. But from what she had gathered Thor didn’t quite need sleep in the same way she did, or at least not as regularly. He’d been more than content to offer what knowledge he had to those working through the night at the Bifröst site, even after Coulson had sent Jane back to Puente Antiguo to get some sleep.

Not that she’d slept. As the day broke, she pushed the blanket aside and set her mug down. Though daylight meant she’d be able to go back to the site, she thought doing it the moment the sun broke the horizon would be pushing it. And there was something she could do in the meantime.

Jane had never been one for exercise in the strictest sense. But as a child, having had a physicist for a father and a natural inclination towards it herself, she’d found the physical beauty of music fascinating. Knowing something of the mystery behind its magic meant it seemed only natural that she’d choose to express herself through its harmonics and chords. Her father had played violin; developing a fondness for Tchaikovsky and Chopin young, Jane had attended ballet classes from the ages of four until sixteen, when she decided her talent in physics outstripped her dance ability and concentrated on her grades instead.

But her body had never forgotten it. While she didn’t have _pointe_ shoes, or even simple slippers, she wasn’t sure she could do it for any length of time now anyway. Bare feet seemed enough as she returned to her trailer only long enough to dress in shorts and a t-shirt. Back up on the roof, she plugged small external speakers into the iPod Nano Darcy had once given her. Though Darcy had loaded it with whatever passed for the indie scene these days, Jane had long since replaced it with her own eclectic mixture of classical, nineties rock, and a rather peculiar amount of cheesy hits from the sixties and seventies. But as she stretched out muscles that ached from having sat in the same position through the small hours of morning, she decided she wasn’t in the mood for _Sleeping Beauty_ or _Swan Lake_. Instead the beat of Prokofiev had her raising her hands, turning out her hips. _Romeo and Juliet_.

The choice had its sense, she thought with vague humour. The dance of the knights – not that she was a knight. Physicality wasn’t even her preferred way of dealing with stress. But her body felt restless, skin prickling still with the promises in his touch she hadn’t allowed him to keep.

Some part of her didn’t understand why she’d stopped him. She wasn’t unromantic by nature, she just needed to be hit over the head with it sometimes; like many scientists, Jane had long resigned herself to the fact she couldn’t be seduced by subtlety. Not that Thor ever struck her as particularly subtle. Moving her own body, swaying back into the old forms that had lain dormant in muscle memory, she acknowledged he was a physical person. Words were not his weapons of war. Those belonged to his brother.

_Loki_. The mere thought of him caught her off-guard; she made a misstep, lost the count Then, with a muttered curse, she threw herself back into the music even as it swelled upwards again. From what she had seen of the two together, what they had both told her of themselves, it seemed hard to believe anyone had ever thought them brothers. Of course she had not seen their parents, but Thor sounded to have much in common with his father while their mother sounded more like the fairytale image of regal queenship. No wonder Loki had felt out of place, even before he had been told his birth made that assumption entirely true.

The pace of her thoughtful meandering matched the slower part of the music. Then, it stepped up with furious gusto as the driving beat returned. _Damn you_ , she thought, randomly. _Why can’t you just make up your mind? Do you hate him, or do you love him?_

It didn’t help that no-one had any idea what, if anything, he’d had to do with the accident in New York. Or if they were even safe, being so close to an anchor point of the Bifröst. They seemed to regard it as a compromise, keeping Erik on the east coast and her here. _The two experts_ , she thought bitterly. _How do they expect us to save the world, if they won’t even tell us what the hell is threatening it?_

Though of course they hadn’t been happy at all when she’d finally confessed she’d stayed because Thor’s brother had told her to. From the look on Coulson’s face, the only reason he didn’t throw her in a cell for safe-keeping was because rainbow bridge experts didn’t grow on trees. Though she had no doubt that she was now under constant surveillance. Still, that paled in comparison to the way Thor had looked.

“Jane?”

Again she stumbled, caught herself just long enough to execute a turn. “Oh.” When she pushed her hanging hair out of her face, it flushed from more than just exertion. “Hi. I didn’t see you there, sorry.”

“I was just watching you.” Thor crossed the roof, and for not the first time she had to marvel at the fact that even in shirt and jeans, he was obviously not of this world. “This is Midgardian dance?”

“Well, one of them. There are lots of different dances.” Hunching down on her heels, she reached to turn the music down. “Darcy could probably even teach you to shuffle, if you wanted. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if _Tony_ even would.”

“Tony and I already have a sparring schedule. I’m not sure it would translate well to the dance.” His eyes followed as she rose up on her toes, then began to stretch already-aching muscles. “You are very good.”

“I’m really out of practice.” Wincing, she balanced on one foot and gave the opposite ankle a brief rotation; the resultant crack only made her wince more. “And it’s not actually how it’s done, I haven’t got the proper shoes or anything. I was making most of it up as I went along, too.”

“It came from your heart. That is what matters.”

“I…” She paused, her flush rising; though she’d always known she certainly wasn’t ugly, she’d never known how to take compliments. She supposed that came of having a father whose ideal of beauty tended to be better expressed in algorithms and proofs rather than perfect skin and symmetrical features. “…thank you.”

“You are welcome.” He shifted his weight, appearing oddly ill-at-ease when he was usually so self-assured. “Am I disturbing you? I can always come back later.”

“No, you’re not…disturbing me. I just wanted to think, a bit, before I went back to the Bifröst site.” She wanted to go to his side, to put her arms about his neck and kiss him, but after the day she had to think it would taste like a lie. With a sigh, she pushed her hand back through her hair again. “Or maybe it’s more not-thinking. I mean, I think all the time, I guess, I just wanted to…not think, but think. God, I’m making no sense.”

“I believe I understand.” Stepping closer, arms still crossed over his broad chest, Thor gave her a half-smile that blazed despite the continued shadows of early morning. “Movement is its own thought, its own form of contemplation.” Even as she raised an impressed eyebrow, he gave a rueful shake of his head. “That’s not so much my own thought on it, however. Such philosophy is far too deep for me.”

Her own smile lost its shimmering pleasure. “Loki?”

“Yes. I misappropriated that one from Loki.” Taking a seat upon one of the deck chairs, he gave her a look of apology even as she saw beneath it the deep-seated need to speak of the brother he had loved so well. “I’ve told you before that he was never a warrior in the strictest sense, perhaps, but he knew that dance as well as any of us did. He was just less inclined to heed the siren song of battle.”

With a sigh Jane took the chair next to his. “He had his own tune to follow.”

“He always has.” His great hands, again empty of Mjölnir, tangled together for a long moment as he stared at them. When he looked up, his eyes were very tired. “Are you angry with me?”

The smile felt almost as forced as she knew it must look. “About what?”

“Not speaking to you of the conversation between my brother and I.”

“Yes. No.” Pulling her legs up beneath her, rubbing absently at the twinge in one shin, Jane pursed her lips. “It’s none of my business, really. Besides, I never told you about why I didn’t want to come to New York.”

“That is just one reason why it is very much your business,” he refuted immediately, tapping one foot in uneasy rhythm. “I also don’t blame you for what happened with Loki. If anyone knows how hard it is to believe him, it is I. I do love my brother, Jane. But I will not allow him to hurt you.”

“But you’ve known him your entire life,” she returned, regretting the words almost as soon as she released them to the dangerous climes outside her own mind. “You’ve barely known me for…what, two weeks? Maybe?”

Thor’s confusion hurt. “Do you doubt my affection for you?”

“No.” Still she reached for him, laid one small hand over his. “But maybe this isn’t what you should be concentrating on.”

Tilting his head, Thor only looked all the more troubled despite her vague attempt at comfort. “What are you saying?”

“He needs you more than I do.”

“But I need you.”

Jane could offer nothing in reply but silence, but she suspected he could see the shimmer of threatened tears behind her smile. He shook his head.

“It must look impossible, I know. To balance such things. But I was raised to be a king, and though Loki was not wrong in his original assessment, things have changed. This is what I was born to do. Therefore, you must trust me, Jane.”

“I do,” she whispered, but she could think of nothing more to add. Her eyes dropped again, to the ragged shorts she wore and the t-shirt she’d had since graduate school. Thor had chosen to come to her in jeans and t-shirt, again, but even then he could not conceal the divine nature beneath the illusion.

“ _I have a little shadow, that goes in and out with me – and what can be the use of him is more than I can see_.”

The words struck her as so very odd that at first she thought she might have finally gone mad. Then, realisation followed close on the heels of perceived madness. “That’s a poem, isn’t it?”

“A Midgardian poem, yes.” In the lightening day, she could read both sorrow and joy upon his broad features. “Loki told it to me.”

“The other morning?”

The pause before he spoke would have been answer enough. “Yes. I’m still not quite sure what he meant by it.”

“I think I can guess,” Jane thought, and for not the first time her heart ached for them both. Still, Loki’s choice of poets struck her as odd; given the sheer amount of epic Norse poetry on earth alone, she had to think Asgard had plenty of poetry of its own for him to torment Thor with. “So he’s been to earth before?”

“Oh, we all have. Numerous times.” The casual ease with which he spoke left her faintly uneasy, and unable to guess why. “Though I suspect he has been more often than I’d ever realised.”

“He sure does know how to dress,” she muttered, and he gave her a warning nudge even as she heard the grin behind his words.

“Are you saying I do not?”

“Well, I probably shouldn’t, considering I gave you those clothes,” she replied, pragmatic to a fault. “But then I’m not exactly down with the latest fashion trends.”

“I don’t believe you need to be.” Again, his smile burned brighter even as his voice lowered, his eyes alight with sudden mischief. “You’re perfect the way you are.”

Her flush threatened to swallow her reply whole. “Thank you.”

It might not have been the best idea, she thought, but when Thor came to sit beside her she didn’t move away. The deckchair groaned alarmingly beneath their combined weight, but she leaned into his side and closed her eyes all the same. His hand sat warm upon her shoulder. “You still seem uneasy.”

“I just keep thinking…” She shook her head. “I’m no warrior.”

“I never thought you to be.”

Straightening, she poked one finger at the strong muscle of one biceps. “But you are.”

“I am.”

She had to think he was being purposely obtuse, and actually began to feel something like sympathy towards his estranged brother. “The Lady Sif is a warrior,” she added finally, reluctantly, and Thor blinked.

“Which is not actually quite the usual occupation for a well-bred Asgardian lady.” Then he laughed, low and leonine. “Not that Sif ever saw that as anything to stop her.”

“I can’t see anything stopping Lady Sif,” Jane said, and the affection in his eyes might have hurt, if not for the fact she’d long since realised the depth and width of Thor’s mighty heart.

“I always thought it a pity, that Loki and Sif did not see more eye to eye.” Thoughtful now, Thor leaned back, looked to the rapidly encroaching blue of the sky overhead. “They were almost in each other’s positions. One would think they could find solidarity in that. Yet…they did not.”

“Are you supposed to marry her?”

Thor turned to her, eyebrows furrowed once more. “Whatever gave you that idea?” he asked, more curious than confused. “Did Loki tell you that?”

She bit her lip, hating that she sounded more hurt than confrontational; the lack of outright denial sat ill upon her aching heart. “Should he have?”

“There has never been any indication of it, no.” Scratching at his head, Thor winced. “And she would likely be…unsuited, to queenship. She is a leader and a warrior, but Asgard is not meant for war alone.” Something like sadness moved behind his eyes as he looked across the horizon, to where the sun had almost slipped its nightly bindings. “There must be peace, as well. My father called Mjölnir a tool for breaking things down, but also for building them up. I know both, but I also know my strengths.” When he looked to her, his smile was small but warm. “I must have at my side someone who knows the same.”

“Loki was supposed to be at your side.” She blurted out the words without thinking; despite the horror she knew had crossed her face, Thor only nodded.

“He was.” Shifting his weight, looking again to his palms, Thor took a deep breath, “We always knew only one of us could be king, and even though there was an implication it could be either of us…we both knew that I was the elder, and I was the warrior. But Loki seemed content with that.”

The ballet music had moved on, Jane noticed dimly. It could not be a good sign that it had picked up the adagio of Spartacus and Phrygia. “And now he’s not,” she muttered, and while confusion coloured Thor’s expression Jane felt as if a nest of snakes roiled in her stomach. “Thor, Loki told me something—”

The crash cut her off, spun them both around in its general direction. “What was that?” she asked, but it was already happening again. A moment later she identified its source; said clattering rose from inside the trailer below, and her heart turned to ice. Thor’s hand on her lower arm felt warm as smelted iron.

“Jane, I will see to this.”

Shaking off his hand, she was already sprinting to the ladder to swing herself down. “It’s my house,” she said, fury mixing with deep apprehension. Yet any sensible instincts had quite flown her mind as she threw the door open and stormed inside. Almost immediately she stopped dead, comforted only by the arrival of Thor’s welcome bulk at her back.

At the sink, Loki turned, gave her a smile that somehow managed to straddle the fence separating _charming_ and _creepy as fuck_. “Ah, there you are. Cup of tea, Dr. Foster?”

“What the hell are you _doing_?”

“I would have thought that was obvious.” Indeed it was, and Jane couldn’t be sure what was worse: Loki standing in her tiny trailer with saucer in one hand and teacup in the other, or the fact he did it in what she suspected was full Asgardian armour. He only lacked the horned helmet she’d glimpsed so briefly the first time they had met, though the fitted leather and gleaming metals had a menace all of their own.

“Brother, you must stop doing this.”

Loki gave a little shrug, undisturbed by the low growl of Thor’s voice. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Thor,” he remarked, took a thoughtful sip from his cup. “So you really to ought to just keep calm and drink your tea. I made it just the way you like it.”

His broad brow furrowed deeply; when he stepped more to her side, Jane noticed his hands had clenched into fists. “I have never had this…tea.”

“But I know how you’ll like it. Sit.”

He didn’t. But he closed the door and turned to look at his brother with cool regard that made Jane shiver, even if Loki remained utterly unmoved. “I am not interested in your peculiar beverages.”

“Well, I did try to be kind. Remember that.”

Thor actually rolled his eyes. “I will remember that I never know when to believe you!”

Sipping his tea, Loki winced at the rising volume. “There’s no need to shout, Thor. Even were you standing clear across the room and whispering, I would hear you.”

“But I don’t think you’re _listening_.”

One slim eyebrow arched high, cup stopping halfway between mouth and cup. Then he settled it upon the saucer with a click, before placing them down on Jane’s bench. “Oh, that’s quite a new one on me, Thor. I didn’t realise you understood the nuance.”

“Do you not like to have your own lessons turned back on you?” Despite the irritation in his words, Thor did not have guile enough to hide the hurt that shadowed each one. “You should be more careful, brother. If not for your lies and your games, then this never would have started.”

A flare of his eyes was all that existed to demonstrate any injury this had done Loki. Then it was gone, leaving only disgust in its unhappy wake. “No,” he said, and he almost sounded repulsed, “no, I could not believe you when you said you had only the good of Asgard in your heart.”

Thor looked stunned. Then, his own misery began to war with his indignant pride. “You are my brother, and you did not believe in me?”

“It was precisely _because_ I was your brother than I could not believe in you!” Loki’s hand slammed down on the bench, and the cup toppled to the floor; Jane flinched as it shattered, though neither Aesir appeared to notice it had fallen, let alone broken. “Who else had spent so many years at your side, in the heart of so many of your idiot excursions? I was not the only one to realise that the moment you became king, nothing would magically change your bull-headed arrogance and vanity – but I was the only one with the courage to acknowledge it!”

Thor’s throat worked. “And so you betrayed king, brother, and country,” he muttered, low and dark, and Loki’s lips twisted in a mockery of a smile.

“You had to learn.”

“From your example, it seems,” he said. “But then, it was only a little bit of fun, wasn’t it?”

“I do like a little bit of fun.”

“You do.” Thor paused again, then shook his head; it seemed more in disbelief than outright anger this time. “Is that why you lied?”

Loki’s innocence might have fooled even those who knew it for the illusion it inevitably was, such was its power. “ _Did_ I lie?”

And his frustration exploded from him like a released lahar, a destructive pyroclastic flow of emotion. “You told me that you were not going to come back for a year! And yet here you are, tormenting Jane, tormenting _me_ with your half-truths and your broken promises!”

Unmoved by Thor’s volume, Loki clicked his tongue. “Oh, Thor – I thought you understood, just before, but will you never learn to _listen_?” Rubbing at one ear in an entirely theatrical gesture, he smiled. “Think of what I told you.”

“Brother—”

“The _words_ , Thor.” Tilting his head, green eyes dancing with an amusement that could be termed nothing but _malicious_ , he tried for exasperated. “One would think you’d have learned by now.”

“Literal genie.”

His head whipped around to her, though she’d scarcely spoken her immediate thought much above a whisper. “I don’t grant wishes, Dr. Foster,” he said, swift and low even as her eyes widened. “But otherwise the analogy is apt enough.”

“Brother, did you not learn from the last time you played this game with the stakes set far too high?”

Returning his gaze to Thor, Loki pressed the fingertips of one hand to his lips. It only but half-hid the smile behind them. “I said: _I will know within the year. I have no need to speak with you until then_.”

Thor went very still, digesting the potential interpretations of that sentence. Then, he sighed. “And so now you know, you are here? The year was simply the maximum time, not the minimum?”

Loki lowered his hand, smile quite gone. “Yes. I know, now.”

“Brother, come back to Asgard.” Jane’s spine stiffened; for all his anger and frustration of moments before, something close to _begging_ had entered his tone, and his expression. “Please.”

“And leave Midgard to its fate?” Loki couldn’t contain his chortle. “Come, now, I thought you more a hero than that.”

Thor went very still. “Loki, what have you done?”

“So quick to blame me?” He rolled his eyes. “And here I am, being _so_ helpful.”

It always surprised her, when Loki bothered with magic – there was no flash and flare to it, just graceful movement, as if it came to him as naturally as breathing. Yet what he held in his hand at that moment, that which had not been there only a moment beforehand, blazed like the sun even as it cast its own shadow. Jane had never seen something so utterly unnatural in her entire life.

“What _is_ that?” she whispered, and Loki smiled.

“The cosmic cube – or so they name it.”

“That’s not a cube.”

“Very good, Dr. Foster. Already you can claim far more credit than most. Go straight to the head of the class.”

Even if she’d had the inclination to believe him, she was too fascinated by the thing to be at all flattered. For all his comments to the contrary there were shades of something cuboid about it – but it shifted. Its faces, impossible to count with any real accuracy, pulsed in and out while the object appeared to grow no smaller nor any larger. The non-Euclidian geometry quite aside, Jane could not even quite see how he held it; it rested above his fingers and then in his palm, in both states and neither. The harder she stared, the worse it became. It didn’t help that Loki himself seemed to have more fingers than necessary, at least where they came into contact with the damned thing; it only made her think again of eight-legged horses and impossible things never meant to have been born.

Then his hand extended towards her.

“Perhaps you’d like to hold it.”

“I…” She put her hands up, shook her head so hard it hurt. “I don’t think so.”

“Very good.” Something dangerously like affection flickered through his bright eyes as he twisted his hand, reality itself seeming to warp about the oddity in his hand. “No, perhaps that wouldn’t be for the best.”

“Loki, what are you doing with that?” Thor’s entire body seemed to vibrate with the force needed to hold himself still. “Why did you bring it here?”

The smile upon Loki’s face moved with the light and shadow of the cube. For all that she had seen Thor and Mjölnir, the Bifröst, the Warriors Three and Sif, Heimdall, and then Loki’s magics, it was this that struck Jane the hardest. Loki held in his hand the impossible, rendering himself utterly and completely alien in the process.

And the being at her side called him _brother_.

“If I had left it in the hands of the mortals in New York,” he said, idle, “there would no longer be a New York for it to be left in.”

“And we’re just supposed to take your word for that?” Jane demanded, surprised the words sounded so clear when her lips felt so numb.

“You took my word when you remained here despite Thor’s invitation,” he remarked, and then raised an eyebrow. “Did she tell you about that?”

“She did.”

“But not at the time.” Again, the unnatural light of the cube limned his grin in unnatural curves and lines. “And they call _me_ a liar.”

“I didn’t lie!” Jane snapped, voice faltering as Thor looked to her again. “I just…didn’t tell the truth.”

“Don’t feel betrayed, Thor.” Loki’s expression swung back and forth between boredom and amusement, even as the playful glint on his eye promised his next words would hurt. “I’d have thought you’d be used to these things by now.”

“I wanted to tell you from the beginning,” Jane said, sudden desperation entering her voice; she’d thought herself forgiven, but Loki’s playful words hit her with all the force of the prosecution’s final condemnation. “I just…”

“Don’t blame her. She simply has no idea how this game is played.”

Though Thor did not look at her, the warmth of his hand about hers felt like a benediction. “And you think that I do?” he said to his brother, calmed again. And Loki just laughed.

“We’ve been playing this game from the very moment we met as children of opposing worlds.” Though he spread his free hand as if in surrender, Jane had to think such hands could never empty, not with the magics that flowed through his veins. “Why else would the Allfather have taken me, made me your brother, made me your never-equal?”

“That was never his intention.”

“How do you know that? Did _he_ tell you that?” The long fingers curled inward, and then Loki laughed, bitter and low. “Or is it simply that now you have proved yourself worthy of Mjölnir in the one eye he managed to be wise enough to keep, you share the same ridiculous ideals of kingship?”

Frustration tensed all his muscles, voice coiled violence held barely in check. “Why do you come only to fight?”

He blinked, then almost looked disgusted. “I didn’t come to fight.”

“Then why are you here?”

“To save your precious Midgard.”

Loki spat the words out with such venom that the juxtaposition made it hard for either of them to comprehend what he had said. Then, Thor’s voice broke on the single word he managed in reply. “What?”

“I know you wouldn’t have believed me in the past.” His head jerked towards Jane, and she jerked reflexively away. “But I’ve already saved her.”

“How do I know you didn’t just put me in danger in the first place?” Jane demanded, and he again he laughed; his merriment echoes about her tiny trailer like the scream of a banshee.

“Good question,” he conceded, and as if summoned, a sudden voice boomed from outside.

“ _Step out of the building with your hands held up! Bring no weapons! We are authorised to use deadly force if and when necessary!_ ”

As the sound of guns being trained on the trailer chilled Jane’s blood to freezing, Loki’s smile grew wider. Thor’s hands tightened on Jane’s shoulders, and Loki’s amusement flickered in and out as much as the very existence of the cosmic cube itself. “But the real question, dearest not-brother mine,” he added with a lazy chuckle, “is how much will you believe me now?”


	6. Call and Answer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki is more helpful than Tony and no-one can actually be surprised by that, Thor goes back to his Viking berserker roots, Coulson learns a lesson about things men aren't supposed to look at, Jane discovers the fun of Blowing Shit Up, and Tony finds a new playmate in Cthulhu. And Isn't Happy about it, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First up, apologies for how long this took -- it's partly due to the fact that real life has kicked my ass all week, but there's a lot of action-oriented nonsense in this chapter. And if there's one thing I write very poorly, it's action scenes (you may have already figured that from the tone of the rest of the story up until this point, ha). But I managed to get there in the end. With the help of H.P. Lovecraft. I need to stop reading Lovecraft, I'm telling you.
> 
> The delay also comes from the fact I wasn't just writing this chapter this week, I was constructing the end of the story as well -- so at least I know exactly where it's going. Time will tell if things actually work out the way I'm thinking they will. [splits a glare evenly between Loki and Tony]
> 
> In other news, thank you _so much_ to every one who is reading, has left kudos, or has made a comment. I'm really just a baby in this fandom and am totally making this up as I go along, so the fact that anyone besides me is enjoying this gives me great glee.  <3 Thank you!

Loki came with a surprising lack of fuss. An issue arose only when Coulson wanted to bind his hands. The resultant expression on Thor’s face resembled an apocalyptic massing of stormclouds – and then a real low front had begun to cross the sky, bringing with it the distant promising rumble of brontide. Tony eventually stopped smirking long enough to point out that binding an Asgardian sorcerer with simple Midgardian technology probably wouldn’t make the slightest difference anyway.

“Well, unless it makes you feel better,” he said, giving Coulson a sideways look. “I guess cuffs and leather are just some people’s favourite things, yeah?”

Loki gave him an amused look, and then let his features settle again into deep calm. Jane really didn’t want to think too hard about the logistics of _that_ friendship. Especially given from all she’d seen and heard, Loki really didn’t _do_ friends.

In the end Thor remained at his brother’s side and declared it would suffice as supervision enough. The fact Loki allowed it might have been good or bad, Jane thought; from his own unimpressed expression Coulson clearly couldn’t decide either. It didn’t help that during the ride back the brothers sat very close together. The sight left Jane vaguely uncomfortable, though from Thor’s attitude and Loki’s indifference it seemed a natural position for them both. Wrapping her arms about herself, she let the memory of Thor’s words rumble through her.

 _He was always at my side. When he was gone, I did not know what I would do without him_.

Then the poem Loki had told Thor followed close on its heels, the words skipping lightly across the troubled surface of her mind.

_I have a little shadow, that goes in and out with me…_

When they reached the Bifröst site Jane fully expected to be excluded from any interrogation. Even before the developments with Erik and New York, she’d been under absolutely no illusion about her place within SHIELD’s hierarchy. Yet while Coulson scowled Thor caught and held her hand as they walked through the corridors; his serene and silent brother sauntered close on his left hand side. If they hadn’t been accompanied by twenty heavily-armed mercenaries in black ops gear, Jane might even have said Thor looked _happy_.

There was something to be said about looking on the bright side of life, she thought in half-despair, but this was really getting ridiculous.

From the tight line of his mouth Jane guessed Coulson had wanted to take them all somewhere more secure, but even before Tony had mouthed off it was likely he’d known that there really was no way of being sure _anywhere_ would be secure for a creature as unusual as Loki. Jane had a glimmer of a thought that Tony might have some ideas on that front, but right now all three were seated at a table opposite Coulson. Thor again remained in the middle; apparently his pleasure didn’t blind him to the fact he couldn’t trust his brother sitting beside his mortal beloved. Loki, to his credit and her disquiet, only stared at the SHIELD agent with the faintest of smiles on his lips.

Coulson took a long sip of water before beginning. Jane wouldn’t have been at all surprised to find out he’d palmed a couple of Vicodin with it; she was struggling with a vicious headache of her own. She still had to admire the even way he met Loki’s unsettling gaze.

“So. You are Thor’s brother.”

“As once was,” he said, and inclined his head in a nod that could be called nothing else but _courtly_. “You may call me Mr. Laufeyson, if that helps, Agent Coulson.”

“Odinson.”

The way Loki turned his head to stare at his once-brother reminded Jane uncomfortably of possessed china dolls. “Let’s not confuse the mortal, Thor.” Then he returned that porcelain-perfect smile to Coulson. “Laufeyson will do.”

That headache looked like it was getting worse. “How did you come into possession of the cosmic cube?”

“It’s a tesseract.”

Where Loki’s smile remained serene, Coulson’s was tight as an overtuned piano string. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise nomenclature was the issue here.”

“This is exactly why you shouldn’t have been playing with such toys in the first place.”

“Oh, so it is a _toy_ to you?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

It disturbed Jane more than she could say, that Coulson’s contained annoyance was clearly shadowed by a growing fascination. She couldn’t even fault him for it. Whatever else Loki could and might be, he was undoubtedly a fount of impossible knowledge.

“So where is it now?”

“In safe-keeping.”  He spoke so pleasantly Jane almost thought they were at a tea-party. Albeit a mad one. “Would you care to see it?”

“Yes.”

As Loki unwound his laced fingers, Thor shook his head; his tone waged a war between warning and dubious. “Loki.”

“I mean this mortal no harm, Thor.” He didn’t look at him to deliver the message. His attention locked upon Coulson instead as he raised one palm, extended the hand towards the agent. Again, Jane could not see any flash and glamour. There was simply nothing there one moment, and _something_ there the next. The cube itself still made her wince, her stomach executing a lazy barrel roll; its intrinsic impossibilities made it hard to look at even as she wanted to look nowhere else.

“I removed it from your facility when I saw what was occurring,” Loki said, smooth as ice; from the strained expression on Coulson’s face, he was having many of the same issues as Jane when it came to observing the damned thing.

“And what was occurring, exactly?”

“May I put it away now that you’ve verified its continued existence?” Again, his cultured voice seemed utterly at odds with the madness Jane had seen lurking behind its glittering image. “It’s…shall we say, _uncomfortable_ to hold, for long periods.”

The agent licked dry lips. “You could put it back where you found it.”

“That would be an extraordinarily bad idea.” Withdrawing his hand, the cube winked back out of the visual spectrum, at least that of mortals; from the perplexed way Thor stared at Loki’s hands, Jane had to wonder what he saw that they couldn’t. But then Loki laced his fingers back together, continued with the only merest tightening of his shoulders. “As you could no doubt guess from the shift in its state it has evolved beyond your capabilities to hold it quiescent, Agent Coulson. This is why I chose to take matters into my own hands, as it were.”

“With all due respect, Mr….Laufeyson, we didn’t request your assistance.”

“And yet I tendered it all the same.” After allowing a polite pause, he added calmly, “I’m still waiting for the outpouring of gratitude.”

“They don’t do that,” Tony volunteered from where he leaned against the door. Jane started; she hadn’t even realised he’d entered the room. “Trust me, I’ve saved the world a couple of times myself and I’m still waiting for even a measly tickertape parade.”

Loki’s attention moved in the direction of the voice, eyes unblinking and still. “Perhaps we could throw a party of our own.”

“Not sure your idea of party quite matches up with mine.” Then Tony shrugged, insouciant as always with the glow of his arc reactor faint behind his crossed arms. “But yeah, your people can call my people, we’ll talk.”

“If we’re quite finished synching our social calendars, gentlemen?”

Loki rolled something like a chuckle around his mouth as he looked back to the agent. “Forgive me, Agent Coulson. I am not accustomed to dealings with mortals.”

“ _Mortals_ ,” Tony repeated, slow and verging on insulted. “Huh. Just warning you, Mr. Not Thor’s Brother – that’s going to get really old, really fast.”

“Stark.” From the way eyes rolled Jane strongly suspected Tony had a great deal more to say on the matter, but Coulson was already leaning over the table in what might have been an effort to pretend that if he couldn’t see Tony in his peripheral vision, maybe he wouldn’t exist anymore. “Mr. Laufeyson, if you really intend to help us, I am going to need you to explain to me exactly what is going on here.”

“I suspect that you will be finding out all too soon.” Again his too-green eyes flicked sideways. “Mr. Stark, might I advise you to go and work whatever Midgardian magic it is that allows you to fly about in that fetching red suit of yours?”

“ _Fetching_?” Thor’s face had grown a frown, but Tony’s half-feigned offense had turned to intrigue. “Huh, that’s a new one. I’m adding that to the list.”

Fortunately Coulson broke in before Thor had so much as a moment to ask Tony what he was bleating on about now. “So what are you saying, Mr. Laufeyson?”

“My removal of the cube from your New York facility did somewhat hamper the intended passage of a certain class of creature I have the impression you’d rather not make the acquaintance of.” All amusement had fled now, his face a mask of chiaroscuro wrought in light and shadow. “It did not, however, completely contain them.”

“When were you planning on telling us this?” Coulson’s tone might almost have been amiable; Loki’s own was as ice.

“I’m telling you now.”

“Loki.” Having apparently decided to wilfully forget the strangeness of his brother’s half-conversations with Tony, Thor focused upon his brother as if they were the only two people left in the room. Then again, Jane thought, they certainly were the only two _gods_ present. From the growing expectancy of Loki’s expression, he knew it as well as she did even before Thor said, “When is this battle to commence?”

Tony’s eyebrows went through his hairline. “ _Battle_?”

Ignoring Tony entirely, Thor took his brother’s silence as the goading to war Jane suspected it to be. He was already on his feet, hand twitching as if on the verge of calling to Mjölnir again. “How long do we have?”

“Not quite long enough to spirit your mortal clear out of harm’s way, I’m afraid.” Jane jerked, but the epithet was the only attention he paid her. The rest he reserved solely for Thor. “But then, if we fail, then there will likely be no such place left in existence anyway.”

“ _We_?” Tony said, bafflement only growing. Again Loki turned just enough to grant him a lazy smirk.

“I’ve already told you to go and don your armour, Man of Iron.”

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Thor’s demand drew Loki’s attention back to him as if magnetised, his fingers dug deeply into his palms. “I could have taken Jane elsewhere!”

Loki’s shrug was smooth even as his words sent a stuttering shudder down Jane’s spine. “Because I want her here.”

“You didn’t want her in New York!”

“I have my reasons for all that I do, Thor.” And though Jane felt a protest of her own bubbling up in her throat, the blaring of a sudden alarm sent all into silence – save, that was, for Loki himself. “Now, are we going to stand around discussing this like fools and diplomats, or are we going to go and, as they say, _blow some shit up_?”

Jane’s jaw dropped. But it was Tony who gave voice to what she suspected was even in Coulson’s mind. “ _How_ long have you been on Earth, again?”

Loki’s questioning gaze burned where it rested upon his brother’s: searching, quick, intense. Thor’s answering silence resounded loud through the room, even with the wailing of emergency protocols over the speakers. Then, he smiled wide enough to split the worlds asunder. A hand thrust out and his voice boomed like the clarion call of a bugle.

“I won’t let my brother march into peril alone.”

Loki’s eyes flickered with an emotion Jane could not name. “We’ve discussed this, Thor.” A warning note held true in those words, but his own hand reached out, the palm grasping Thor’s forearm as the other god did the same. A rough shake ensued, yet neither let go as Loki stared unblinkingly at his once-brother. “Then let us go now, you and I.”

“I…” With dark eyes opened wide, Tony couldn’t look away from where they joined; Jane herself felt her heart clench at the thought of two halves once again made whole. “…is this like some freaky-weird Shazzan shit, or something?”

“Tony, you watched way too many cartoons as a kid,” she said, voice strained as she turned to give him a watery smile; his returned expression was all feigned innocence and exasperation.

“And now I fly around in a bright red robot suit fighting crime on my days off. Parents, be warned: this is what happens when you let your kids sit around all day watching bad TV.”

Coulson looked up from where he’d been barking orders into his phone. “Speaking of which, get suited up, Stark. The party’s starting without you.”

“Parties never start until I get there. Parties know better.” Despite the casual tone, Tony moved with a speed that indicated some part of him was afraid the truth might be otherwise. Shaking her head, Jane turned – and fear coiled around her heart. Both Thor and Loki had disappeared in the interim.

“I…” She swallowed hard, turned to face Coulson; for possibly the first time ever, she was pleased to find him close to hand. “What do I do now?”

“Come with me, Dr. Foster.” Somewhat to her annoyance she fell into grateful step as he turned on one heel, headed for the door. “Your hammer-wielding boyfriend’s trusting me to keep you safe, along with the rest of the damned world, so we might as well get started.”

Following him down the corridors proved easier said than done; various personnel ran back and forth in ever accelerating trajectories of near-panic, and given her shorter legs it become a struggle to keep up with his quick pace. “Is this really such a good idea?” she asked, already fighting for breath; Coulson gave her an odd look and didn’t slow. He wasn’t even winded as he answered the question.

“Were you meaning something in particular, or just this entire situation?”

“I was talking about letting Loki loose.”

“We didn’t exactly have him contained in the first place,” he admitted, much as it clearly pained him to do so. “And right now, I’m willing to try whatever weapons we have immediately to hand.”

“He’s not a weapon, he’s a _person_.” She actually bumped into him when he stopped. A moment later he’d removed his own tablet from his jacket pocket, frowning at the messages he was obviously receiving. Taking another step backward, Jane bit down on only the worst of her irritation. She’d never liked the sensation of being ignored. “And he’s probably not a person we can trust!”

“You’ve trusted him.” He flicked to another message, frown growing direr still. “More than once, if the rumours are correct.”

“But not like this!” She waved a hand down the now-empty corridor; the alarms had dampened considerably, but their low buzz felt like a hornet’s nest under her skin. “What’s even going on out there?”

“The Bifröst is open. But it’s not going back to Asgard.”

“Then where it’s coming from?”

Shaking his head, Coulson jabbed one finger at the touchscreen. Hard. “Mr. Laufeyson never did get around to telling us that.”

Jane felt an idiot for asking questions over and over, a stuck record Coulson had likely never wanted to play in the first place. “But what is the alarm about?”

“What’s coming through it.”

“So what’s coming through it?” she asked, beyond exasperated – but when Coulson looked up, the dark blankness of his eyes struck her with the force of a bullet.

“We’re about to find out.”

“Fuck,” she whispered, and he nodded.

“That about sums it up, yes.”

Even as her mind began to frantically drag forth every memory she had of her dealings with the Bifröst and the portals she had generated to facilitate Thor’s return, Jane had something more important to deal with first. “Where’s Darcy?”

“The inimitable Miss Lewis?” Coulson paused again in his messaging. “She’s been accounted for.”

“Where is she then?”

“Being removed from the area as we speak.”

“Can I talk to her?”

“No.” Without stowing his over-sized phone he started moving again, motioned she should follow. “Trust me, Dr. Foster. I wouldn’t want to lose the best drinking companion I’ve had since Quantico.”

Even though she was still walking, her face suddenly felt a lot safer pressed against her palm. “Oh god, is this what going mad feels like?”

“You’ve been down the rabbit hole for a while now, Dr. Foster,” he said, and not without a strange warmth of irony as he pushed through the last door. “Come on, I’ve got some curious things for you to identify for me.”

“You’re either taking this _really_ well, or this is something you do way too often.”

“Call it a bit of both.”

Considering how weird the day had already proven to be, to Jane’s relief the room they entered was the one she was most familiar with – the central monitoring station for the Bifröst, though she usually stayed within only long enough to induce its opening. Several technicians remained, but not there was nothing of their usual flurry of motion. Instead they all just stared with creeping horror at the feed from their screens. Jane followed their gaze. A moment later, she felt as if someone had just pulled the rug out from beneath the world itself.

“What the hell is _that_?”

Coulson shook his head. “I have no idea.” Already he had set about evacuating the remaining personnel; Jane knew she ought to ask them for an opinion on what they’d seen already, but her eyes were fixed with growing horror on the central console and the unfolding vistas of chaos displayed upon its flickering width.

“So why’d we invite it in?” she said, voice very faint; the agent snorted.

“Can’t say we did. But then I don’t think it’s a matter of vampires and invitation etiquette anyway.”

Jane wished he hadn’t mentioned vampires. Though the creature she stared at now didn’t quite have mouths in the manner she was accustomed to seeing them, every one of them had teeth. Lots of teeth, How that was even possible she didn’t know, but then she’d never been a big reader. Arthur C. Clarke had been one of her father’s favourite authors and through that she’d developed a fondness for hard science fiction. But what she could see spilling forth from the gateway came clear from the horror end of the fantasy genre.

“Maybe we need to get Stephen King in here, actually,” she said, half-faint as something with more legs than reality squidged through the glimmering portal. “This looks a bit out of my area of expertise.”

“Lovecraft would probably be better.”

When she swallowed, she thought she could taste blood. “Lovecraft’s dead.”

“That’d probably just give him a useful perspective on things, really.”

“You know, Agent Coulson, sometimes you really do sound like Tony,” she said, soft and with only the vaguest hint of hysteria; he shook his head, muttering as he winced at another fresh arrival.

“Christ, the world really is ending.”

The screens flickered dangerously, and Jane couldn’t help a smile even as her heart skipped. A moment later, the screens filled with a complete white-out snowstorm of static, and then returned to normal. This time, though, the creature was roaring from within a ring of scorched earth. Even as relief flooded through her like a tsunami, Jane squinted at the sliver of sky the largest display revealed.

“Where is Tony anyway?”

“One of the other screens, probably. He’s hard to keep track of in this sort of thing. He tends to fly around like he thinks he’s playing to win the Quidditch World Cup or something.”

Laughter boiled dangerously close to the surface, even as her hands trembled harder to hear a rending scream from beyond the new-built walls of the SHIELD facility. “ _Really_ wouldn’t have picked you for a Harry Potter fan, Agent Coulson.”

“Yes, well, we all need a hobby.” As another scream ripped the air – ripped _reality_ ; Jane felt certain no earth-born creature could withstand hearing the sound for long, let alone making it – Coulson actually flinched. “I thought trans-dimensional portals were yours?”

“They’re more a vocation,” she muttered, and then winced herself when she saw the heaving mass of data upon the screens. “Can we just close it?”

“You tell me.”

She refused to feel any pleasure at being deferred to. “No,” she said, slow as her mind moved swiftly through the permutations of the conclusion, “no, or you’d have already done it.” Leaning over one terminal, she input her passcodes and began to call up the diagnostics; from the moment the first one came online, her heart screwed itself up in knots. “What are you even doing to keep it open?”

“We’re not.”

“They are. Great.” Shoving her hair back yet again, Jane turned just enough to glare at the unmoving agent at her side. “Tell me something – why did we even open it, after what happened in New York?”

Coulson gave her a pointed look of shadow and scorn. “We didn’t open it. We didn’t even know it _could_ be opened here. From everything you had done, we thought this was just a landing point for the Bifröst from Asgard, not anything else.”

“Oh, for fuck’s…” Her eyes raked over the data readouts, her lips moving as she read the numbers with increasing frustration. Then she shook her head. “So they’re piggybacking on the signal, maybe? It’s that bloody cube again, isn’t it.”

“We suspect so.”

“And Loki’s got the cube.” Biting her lip, Jane cast a look up to the screens that gave various views in and around the compound. Thor had apparently had enough of mangling the globulous _thing_ that had half-emerged from the portal; thankfully its bloated, smoking corpse blocked it somewhat, though from the heaving and twitching of its dead mass what lay behind was trying to shift its massive bulk. Tony was, as Coulson had suspected, zipping around like a demented hornet in some sort of nightmarish dogfight with two creatures that could have been insects, could have been reptiles, were either way something entirely not of this world. Looking at them made her vision swim and her breath choke; Jane turned back to her work, found her knuckles white from where her hands clenched into fists. She hoped Tony’s targeting systems allowed him to see where they were.

“Where _is_ Loki?” she said, sudden, a shiver crawling with glee down her spinal column. Coulson waved a hand to his left when she glanced upwards again.

“Setting up some sort of perimeter now the other personnel’s out, by the look of it.”

With some reluctance she turned to see for herself.  By the standards of a garden variety alien invasion she supposed not that many creatures had managed to come through yet, but those that had strayed away from Thor’s hammer or out of Tony’s range had encountered something far stranger and just as alien. It was also completely invisible. They pressed up against it like goldfish against glass, though their memories were longer and their intentions far darker.

“Magic,” Jane whispered, and Coulson let out a slow breath.

“Frankly, I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop.” Passing one hand over his forehead, he squinted at the screen. “After all, the god he’s run off with into that arena of death out there is the same brother he tried to kill with some jacked up action figure from their home planet.”

Jane spoke with exasperation, though she couldn’t keep a growing fear at bay. “So why didn’t you stop them?”

“Why didn’t you?” He only turned enough to give her an arch look. “I’m sure if you’d batted your long dark lashes at the thunder god it might have done more than even our best bastardised science against Mr. Laufeyson.”

Her fingers itched, but Jane had simply never been the slapping type. “I’ll try and close the portal,” she said, through gritted teeth, “but because we haven’t opened it, it’s not going to be easy.”

“Can you maybe redirect it?”

“What, and send it to Asgard instead?” Wishing she’d thought to tie it up at some point, Jane impatiently pushed her hair out of her face for what felt the hundredth time. “Yeah, that’d be the nicest diplomatic present ever. _Hi, Odin Allfather, nice to meet you at last – here, thought you might like some of the Children of the Elder Gods_. _Kind of heard you’re into collecting strays._ ”

Coulson snorted, eyes still fixed on the unfolding drama outside. “And you say I sound like Tony.”

“He just rubs off on everybody, I suppose.”

“And that was really a mental image I didn’t need right now.”

In some terribly, hilariously ironic way, that managed to be something like speaking of the devil. “Coulson!” Tony’s voice crackled across his comms, his vague hysteria coming through in two distinctly different flavours – amused and disgusted. “I don’t give a damn what Rhodey or Pep might have told you, I did _not_ sign up for tentacles!”

“Deal with it, Stark,” he replied, smooth as the creases of his non-descript suit; Tony’s initial reply was lost in static, but the second part came through loud and clear.

“I fucking hate calamari!”

Jane very purposely did not look at whatever it was Tony was having a crisis with now. It certainly wasn’t that she didn’t care. She just knew that if she looked, she wouldn’t be able to look away for fear of what might become of the Iron Man. And she had a job to do herself.

Again her fingers flew over the keys, data scrolling across the pages with a dizzying intensity of colour and density. Warnings and advisories came at her from all sides, in the form of dialogue boxes and flashing messages and incessant beepings. Then Coulson swore and Jane swung round, and all paled in comparison to the actual reality slavering before them both.

“Holy Mary, Mother of God.”

To his credit, he moved fast; Coulson retrieved his sidearm from a holster Jane hadn’t even noticed beneath his jacket and had it pointed at the creature before Jane could speak. Then again, she wasn’t sure she could. “Well, shit,” she said finally, thin and high; the creature slinked closer, a monstrosity of seven feet of height and two feet of width. Again, though it held little resemblance to the gargoyle-like constructs she’d seen with Tony or the globular mass Thor had barbecued, she couldn’t look at it for long. Turning to the agent, the image of three mouths and seven mismatched multiple-jointed limbs lingering upon her retinas as if burned there, she gave him a sickly grin. “Coulson, this is your job, right?”

He hadn’t looked away from the damned thing, though from the whiteness of his skin and the sweat standing out upon his brow, it looked to be a bad call on his part. “Dr. Foster, get back.”

She didn’t move, the lip of the monitor bank pressed into the small of her back. “Is that gun going to be enough?”

Despite the fact it did _not_ look to be standard issue, Jane had very little understanding of firearms. “I have no idea,” Coulson snapped, not helping set her mind at rest in the slightest. “Get _out_ of here.”

“I can’t just leave you.”

They remained locked in assessment of one another, the creature and the agent, though from the distinct sway of Coulson’s body, Jane didn’t think it could last much longer. His skin had turned the colour of dirty parchment, a vein throbbing in one temple. “Like you said, this is my job.”

Jane risked a glance to the side, noticed the skies had emptied. “Where the hell is Tony?”

“Doing _his_ job, I suspect. I’ll give him that much, at least – when it comes down to the crunch, he does what he says he’ll do.”

The words were out of her mouth before she’d even thought them, eyes casting about wildly for anything that might resemble a weapon. “I’m not leaving you.”

“This is no time for delusions of camaraderie, Dr. Foster. Get out of here. _Now_.”

As if summoned by the fury in the man’s words, the creature struck – and a split second later Jane was half-deafened by the three rapid shots of Coulson’s handgun. Throwing her hands over her head she hit the floor, scrabbled back beneath the desk. In that half-darkness, she wasn’t really sure exactly what happened after that. Again, there was shrieking – some of it unholy, some of it far more recognisable. It could have been hers, she thought – or maybe just the creature’s battlecry as it rushed towards him in a tangle of limbs and teeth. As she risked a glance at it through half-slitted eyes, she thought oddly of the cube. The creature’s size felt wrong. Or her perception was wrong. It wasn’t right. It didn’t _fit_.

Then she was pushing out from beneath the computers, her hands clenched and her eyes wild. “Agent Coulson!” she shouted, fury rising in her as the damned creature bent with what seemed to be three waists, an armoured series of tagmata shining in the fluorescent lights as it loomed over his fallen form. She had no weapon. It didn’t seem to matter even when it turned to her, insectoid eyes bright with the light of a distant star.

Perhaps somewhat fortunately, that was when the entire western wall exploded.

Half-stunned, ears still ringing, Jane pushed herself up from under a half-destroyed wall panel, looked around with something between despair and relief. Perhaps half the computers still sang their dirge of panic and mayhem, though half the room had just _gone_. She couldn’t see Coulson, and the creature—

As she watched it screamed, head thrown back while sound erupted more from its chest than whatever passed for its throat. Standing before it, lean and motionless in leather and metal, Loki raised a hand. It screamed louder. Then Loki’s fingers _twisted_ , and Jane felt the whole world slide two feet sideways. She lost her balance, went down hard on her knees. When she looked up, the creature lay in smoking ruins of flesh and chitinised armour. The chelicerae of all three mouths gaped open in silent screams, and she felt very suddenly that she might throw up.

“Coulson,” she whispered, and Loki turned to her with a faint smile.

“He’s fine,” he said, and waved a casual hand someways to his left; she felt her heart leap into her chest as she staggered to her feet, took what felt an interminably long time to get to the fallen man’s side.

He had no visible injuries, and for that she could be glad; she’d always been the one to walk the fine line of pass and fail at mandatory first aid classes for the science faculties at the university. But his skin remained that ghastly shade of cursed ivory, and felt cool beneath her shaking fingers.

“He merely looked too long upon its true face. It is not something mortals of this plane are made to bear. Give him time to sleep, and despite all the nightmares he will no doubt scream his way through, he will live.” She turned, stared; Loki still smiled. “Hello, Dr. Foster. I do apologise for being so very nearly late.”

“ _Shit_ ,” she whispered, and sat back on her heels. She could feel tears burning at the corners of her eyes, but she swiped a sleeve across them; the dust of the half-collapsed building scratched her skin deep. “What the fuck was that?”

Loki ignored the question, glanced over to what remained of the central console. Again, Jane had to marvel it worked at all, even as he turned back to her with unblinking demand. “I need you to do me a favour.”

Her dubious snort caught on the dust deep at the back of her throat. Coughing, half-choking, she stared at him with watering eyes. “Is this a good time?”

“It’s entirely the right time.” Now he peered out through the space left by the missing wall; she now suspected its absence had been entirely to do with his idea of a dramatic entrance. There were no creatures in sight, at least, though from the lightning-streaked sky above Thor was still hard at work. “This is why you’re here, after all,” he added, and despite the desert all around them she felt very, very cold.

“So this was all a set up?”

He blinked over at her. “Yes and no.”

“You really are a bastard.”

“To be perfectly honest, I don’t have any idea if what passed for my biological parents were married or not. Or if that even matters on Jotunheim.” Despite the easy tone, his eyes seemed to suggest making quips about his heritage was not amusing him as much as it might otherwise appear. “Are you going to co-operate with me or not?”

Jane looked down at Coulson; he appeared to be asleep, but she could see nothing peaceful in the tense lines across his face, the way his hands clenched into tight fists. Swallowing hard, nausea roiling as she thought of Loki’s words on the subject of nightmares, she couldn’t look away from him. “What happens if I don’t?”

“The end of your entire realm.”

Despite the creeping chaos exploding all over the world outside, Jane paused long enough to give him the most incredulous look of her entire life. “That’s not really giving me a choice, Loki.”

“It’s still yours to make.” He held out one hand, clear amusement colouring even his bone-pale features. “It’s hardly my fault your mortal ideas of morality tilt things severely in one particular direction.”

Jane ignored the hand, not even entirely sure he’d have given it to her had she bothered to accept. Pushing to her feet with a wince, she looked over to the computers again. “I’m assuming this has to do with closing the portal?”

“Quick off the mark as always, I see.”

Limping – she had landed hard on one hip when the wall had come down – Jane couldn’t contain her muttered: “You could have told me this _before_ the alien queen tried to eat my brains.”

“That was not their queen.” Loki paused long enough to poke the smoking body with one foot, then dismissed it to join her before the screens. “I wouldn’t even assume it was female, frankly.”

“Biology lesson later. Physico-sorcery lesson now.”

“My, my, we are bossy, aren’t we?”

“Yes. We both are.” She turned to look at him, mouth set in a hard line. “Can we just get on with it?”

His searching gaze felt as relentless as the tides, and she knew she was supposed to feel uncomfortable underneath its green regard. But considering the situation decided she really didn’t give a fuck.

“I did not tell you earlier because I could not be sure of what they would do,” he said suddenly, surprising her. “This is a scouting party. The portal is inherently unstable without a more constant power source.”

“It seems to be holding its own pretty well.” When she looked up, she winced at the massed power that coiled through the thick cloud cover overhead. “I mean, Thor’s probably not helping.”

But Loki shook his head. “Mjölnir’s influence doesn’t help them. Its power is too keyed to that of Asgard.” One long finger reached out, tapped a series of flickering readings upon one screen. “And it won’t hold, not for long.”

Somehow that brought her very little comfort. “So what are they scouting for?”

“Me.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she muttered, not knowing what was worse – fear for herself and her world, or pity for him and his own. From the look he gave her, perhaps he really could read minds.

“Don’t concern yourself too much for my benefit, Dr. Foster,” he said, dry as winter dust. “I knew they were coming.”

“I think that was obvious.” When she passed her hand back through her hair this time, she felt something sticky. Resolutely she didn’t look at her fingers, telling herself that scalp wounds always bled heavily and that her wooziness was just exhaustion. “So I’m assuming they want the cube rather than the joy of your company?”

“And you say you’re not a warrior.”

The odd wonder in his tone made her turn again. “What?”

“There are more weapons than those forged of steel and iron, Dr. Foster.” And again, she thought she could see the faintest hint of a smile about those mobile lips before it faded utterly, his brilliant eyes back upon the data. “So let us fight with those instead.”

To Jane, things were not so simple. “How can I trust you?”

“Because I love Thor more dearly than you ever will.”

“You tried to kill him!” she shouted, and he just barely shrugged.

“And I failed.” One long-fingered hand drifted to the keyboard, depressed a key with a light touch. “I wonder why that is.”

A moment later, as if punctuating his sentence, a great crash rocked the remains of the building; Jane winced, resisting the urge to duck beneath the desk as another good chunk of the ceiling threw itself to the floor. Loki remained motionless, a living statue in black and green.

“Do we really have time to be debating this now?” he asked politely, and as Jane pulled a piece of drywall out of her hair she contemplated throwing it at him.

“Of course we bloody don’t. And that’s just the way you wanted it to be.”

He smiled. “You saw right through me.”

“Only because you wanted me to.” _And only as far as you allowed_ , she thought sourly, and dropped the piece of gib board at her feet. “What do I have to do?”

From the way Thor had behaved when he’d first come to earth, Jane hadn’t expected Loki to be particularly proficient with human technology. A moment later she felt disconcerted; though he clearly didn’t know the specifics of SHIELD’s systems, he caught on very quickly, eyes moving even faster than his fingers as they began to work.

“Think of them as languages that developed in periods of isolation, Dr. Foster,” he said suddenly in a moment of silence, and she gave him a strange look. “Sorcery and science, I mean. There’s always going to remain a degree of mutual intelligibility, simply because they stem from the same source.”

“Right.”

“If it helps, Dr. Foster, I don’t doubt at all that given my own ability to see one as the other, it is something you yourself might learn.”

A complex coil of stunned emotion choked off any words, and she could only stare at him. Not that he looked at her – he was already pushing away from the screens, eyes moving to the sky; the sudden tension in his body spoke of a warning she could not hear.

“I need to aid Thor,” he said, cementing the impression; Jane followed his gaze upward. Though she hadn’t been paying a lot of attention to external events while they’d both fiddled with the settings, she realised abruptly she’d put a great deal of trust in the assumption that Loki would do so instead. Swallowing hard, she looked out upon the ruined base; the smoking masses of what she supposed counted as bodies turned her stomach.

“He seems pretty happy the way he is,” she said, choking back bile; Loki’s grin was filled with teeth and the ability to bite. Hard.

“Which is half the problem. He’s just having fun now. We need to end this before it goes too far.”

A sick, sinking feeling buckled her knees, though she kept her feet. “This is _fun_ to him?”

“This is what he _does_ , Dr. Foster.” And when he laughed, it was the half-broken sound of one who had known such things all his days. “This is his life – yes, you probably understood that he will sit around drinking and telling his tales in great Asgardian feasts for hours upon end like a hero in a fairytale, but they’re not idle boasts. He works for his glories. And he does so because it is what he knows – and what he loves best.”

Jane stared at him as if Loki were himself the Grim Reaper, come to snatch away all that she had dreamed of. He tilted his head, leaned forward in mock curiosity.

“Did you not realise that?”

In her silence, she could hear clearly the war-cry of the God of Thunder, tearing apart the sky above both their heads. _And the sky is falling_ , she thought, even as Loki turned and strode away.

“Play your part, Dr. Foster. I need to go play mine.”

There was work to do, of course. There was always work to be done. But when she turned back, half-numb and trembling, she found a figure had staggered to his feet. Coulson leaned back against the half-ruined console panel, looking at the room Loki had opened like an eggshell.

“Dr. Foster,” he croaked as she came closer, eyes half-crazed. She wished she knew where his gun had gone, useless as it might have already proved to be. “What’s going on?”

“We’ve set up an override to close the gate,” she said, and bit her lip as she looked to a screen. “They’re going to try and punt as many of those things back through before we do. Loki doesn’t think they’re a good thing to just leave lying around Midgard, or something. Apparently they’re not…quite the same matter as we are.”

Coulson’s haunted expression confirmed that one thousandfold. “Must be why they’re so hard to look at,” he muttered, and she felt pity for him; she had to think he had many long nights of no sleep and waking nightmares ahead of him.

“Yeah,” she murmured, and looked away. With her arms crossed over her chest, she turned her back on the screens for a moment and stepped across the ruins of the room. Quite purposefully she kept her eyes away from the creature Loki had unmade before her eyes; even dead and half-destroyed, she felt her sanity begin to slip every second it was in even her peripheral vision. But when she looked out to the desert battleground before her, the sight of Loki and Thor themselves hardly seemed much better.

Loki stood now in amongst a scattered surround of bodies, head tilted backward as he shouted upwards. “Thor!” The demand rang across the world with regal command. “Lend me a hand here!”

The answer boomed back from the heavens like a call to arms. “A _hand_ , brother?”

“A hand!” He then twirled a finger in a way that almost resembled the action of calling someone insane; a moment later Thor thundered down beside his brother, and from his expression Jane almost wondered if he had gone berserker on her after all.

“No please?” that smirking, sweat-drenched stranger demanded; the slender shadow at his side threw up his hands in disgust.

“ _Now_!”

Even as Thor leaned backward, his right hand beginning to lazily twirl Mjölnir at an increasing rate, he rolled his eyes in high – and amused – disgust. “And here I thought after the last time you swore you would never allow me to do this again.”

“I’m not allowing it. I’m demanding it.”

Even at a distance, this time Jane could not mistake his grin for anything but the promise of violence yet to come. “Be careful what you wish for, brother mine.”

And Loki’s grin was all teeth _and_ deep dark humour. “That’s my line.”

With her eyes locked upon the increasing speed of Mjölnir’s rotation, Jane didn’t even realise Tony had landed beside her and Coulson until he spoke. She swore, pressing one hand against her chest. “ _Tony_!” she gasped, heart leaping as if electrified. “What are you doing down here?”

“Thor gave me a heads up, told me to get out of the way.” He squinted over at the two gods – or at least she assumed he was, given the mask of his suit. “What are they _doing_?”

Jane winced. “Whatever it is, it does _not_ look safe.”

“Yeah, we’re going to be getting some pointed letters from OSHA any day now, that’s for sure.” Iron Man turned his attention to the still-pale Coulson. “You guys have to listen to OSHA, right? I mean, every other department you can tell to just go fuck themselves, but screw over OSHA and you’ll wish you’d never been born?”

“I do wish sometimes you’d never been born.”

If not for the faceplate, Jane was certain she’d have seen Tony blowing the man a kiss. “Love you too, baby.”

Thor and Loki answered Tony’s original question a bare moment later, though certainly not with words. Mjölnir by then spun so fast it seemed little more than a blur – though Jane had seen as much before, in the moments before Thor had utilised the hammer’s peculiar means of flight. But he didn’t launch himself with it now. Instead, Loki held up one hand with casual controlled grace; from its palm exploded a ribbon of pulsing green light. She could see where it was going even before the sorcerous anchor rope tangled about the unseen shaft of the hammer. It whipped Loki off his feet, swept him around – and like a satellite using a planet’s gravitational force to accelerate its own power, Loki allowed the force of Mjölnir to propel him like a slingshot across the sky.

Then, when he encountered the invisible dome he had constructed himself over the charred remains of the Bifröst site, an explosion of light and thunder sent all three mortals below to their knees. Yet, no debris hit a one of them even as the remaining creatures let out a single, choral howl to serve as their final jeremiad. Squinting against the light, Jane reached forward, felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up as her fingertips sparked even as she touched nothing. A nothing that stood as a barrier between her and the world beyond.

Tony smacked it with a fist; from the swearing that resulted, his suit hadn’t liked it much either. “Fuck me,” he muttered, and Coulson almost laughed.

“No, thanks.”

Tony almost managed to sound hurt when he looked back over to Coulson. “I better go help clean this up,” he said, and this time when he reached forward he encountered nothing. Jane pushed back to her feet, winced; she suspected she now had a sprained ankle to go with her bruised hip.

“I’d better go close the gate,” she offered, already beginning to poke the keys as Coulson dragged himself closer. He’d scarcely been there a second when she went so very cold it was as if a Frost Giant had wrapped her in its frozen death embrace.

“It’s not working.”

“What’s not working?”

“The override.” Jane slammed a fist down upon the console. “Shit. Shit fuck _cunt_.”

“Those are some…impressive last words, Dr. Foster.”

For a moment she felt frozen by indecision, by the terrible vagrancies of a fate she had never asked for. Then, she shook her head. “No, they’re not. Fuck _that_ shit, I’m not doing last words. Not yet.”

Despite the fire she felt burning beneath her skin, his hand closed about hers; she could feel the strength in it even after his ordeal. “What are you _doing_?”

“I have an idea.” She swallowed hard, hands flexing in the way she had seen Thor’s do when battle called and he did not have Mjölnir immediately to hand. “But I need to get Loki’s attention.”

“You can’t go out there!”

“Someone has to.”

His grip loosened just enough for her to yank her wrist free; the look he gave her was both exasperated and despairing. “If anything happens to you, Thor will kill me.”

“No, he wouldn't.” The grin she left him with was wild, apologetic. “But it’ll probably hurt, whatever he does. So you’d better cover me, I guess.”

“ _Jane_!”

As she ran out, she remembered that Coulson’s gun had been lost in their battle with whatever it was that Loki had slaughtered with sorcery on their behalf. Then she recalled it hadn’t worked anyway, and shook her head. Stopping dead, she looked up to the sky above, saw it was crossed with silver and deep pulsing green. Swallowing hard, she had the feeling this could be a trap, even if she did end up saving the world. She opened her mouth all the same.

Then a thump at her side caught the sound, strangling it before it had even been born. She turned, half-fell, terror sweeping through her even as she tried to keep moving. Then her eyes widened as she realised what she’d been looking for had found her already.

“Loki!”

Looking none the worse for wear after his curious trajectory across the sky, Loki kept almost uncomfortably close to her side as she resumed her half-limping walk back to the computers and Coulson’s accusing stare. “What are you doing out here?” he asked, quite pleasantly, and she scowled.

“The override doesn’t work. The system’s overloaded.” Despair made her strangely more furious than frustrated; she might have stomped a foot, had her hip not ached as abominably as it did. “It’s just going to keep drawing power until either the portal collapses, or we blow up.”

“Blowing up would be problematic.” Loki frowned. “It might just give them the push of energy they need to actually open the portal wide enough to start bringing their army in.”

“I say we do both.”

Though there was an element of _are you mad, mortal?_ in those clever eyes, Jane caught a definite flash of interest there too. “What do you mean?”

“We’ll give them the energy,” she said, quick and clinical, “and then we’ll shut the door on them. They can keep the resultant explosion. Call it a kind of a thank you for your interesting door-to-door salespitch on alternative religions, but a “no thanks” all the same.”

Loki appeared to miss the point of this; Jane couldn’t blame him, considering he’d likely never had the Mormons round. Either that, or he was concentrating more on the problem at hand than she was. “How do you propose we do this?”

“Pour all the energy we have into the portal.” She had to wonder if it made her a bad person, that she couldn’t keep the subsequent relish out of her voice. “Then, at the worst possible moment, shut it down.”

“You’ve already pointed out that the pattern it’s in will lead to an explosion first.”

“Mjölnir.” Loki’s brows were already furrowing in a way that assured her he was well on the way to working it out for himself, though she added, “If Thor can shut down every electronic signal all at the same time, it’ll collapse.”

His nod was short, sharp, but more congratulatory than curt. “An electromagnetic pulse,” he mused, and her own eyebrows arched high.

“You know what that is?”

“As they say, all this is only the human magic men call science.” Somewhat to her surprise, he dropped her a bow that managed to be simultaneously apologetic and surreal. “Oh, and the ladies, too.”

Deciding flattery would get him nowhere, despite the reams of epic poetry proving otherwise, Jane wrestled her mind back to the task at hand. “Can Mjölnir do something like that?”

His shrug walked a fine line between nonchalance and a well-concealed envy. “If Thor wills it.”

Nodding, Jane looked to the bank of screens that remained active, praying it would grant her enough access to get to the systems she needed. Already her fingers itched to dance across the keys, to transmute equations and numbers and thought into clean clear motion. “You have to go and tell Thor to set off the EMP the moment I say so,” she said, clambering over a fallen section of ceiling tile to get to the screen. Loki said nothing. When she turned, he smiled at her pleasantly, the smell of burnt flesh strong between them.

“I don’t believe I have to do anything.”

Jane just stared, her hands poised over a keyboard like a pianist in the pause before the thundering fortissimo of a Rachmaninoff prelude. “Then why are you here?”

“Because I do what I want.” Then he laughed as if at a private joke, already looking away and upwards; obscured by clouds of blue and black and grey and deep sickly green, all shot through with silver, it looked like the skyscape of an alien world. “Have no fear, Dr. Foster – if you call, I will answer.”

Just like that, he was gone. Jane released a breath, but as she turned back to the main bank of computers left to her, something struck her as odd. Thor had told her of his brother’s sorcery, several times.

_But he never said how powerful he was. He never said his brother could unmake reality like he was unwinding a ball of yarn._

Shuddering, Jane pushed the thought aside and looked to the screen. Her fingers danced over the keys, just barely keeping time with the lightning pace of her thoughts. The world narrowed to what poured forth from her mind, and while she had no real idea what Loki, Thor, or Tony were doing out there now, she could almost pretend she didn’t need to know.

Then, the scream – followed by a roar, both shook the scant foundations of the newly-constructed and even more newly-destroyed facility. Jane closed her eyes, steadied her breathing; the boom of thunder outside helped, though the faint laughter she imagined she could hear behind it didn’t. Pushing back from the screen, she shook her head. The energy levels had been pushed high, though not to the theoretical limits of the thing. Given the sound outside, she decided it would have to be enough. In the end she had no idea if it were even possible to collapse such a passage completely; recalling Thor’s drawing of all those nights ago, she had to believe the world tree probably didn’t work that way. Then she decided it didn’t matter. Only this moment did, now.

Jane looked up.

She could see the sky through the gaping hole in ceiling and roof and wall. Roiling and black, it brought her a strange sense of comfort. Then again, she’d always had a fondness for storms. In turn she’d never been a religious person, but as her finger hovered she had to think she owed some greater power some sort of cry to heaven. Drawing a deep breath, she called just the one name first.

“ _Loki_!”

She pushed the button. Then she closed her eyes. She had only one god to pray to now. And at least she knew this one would be listening – if he still could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note on the chapter title -- it's a Barenaked Ladies song, and I cannot stop listening to it. It's just...Thor and Loki, to me. Thor, Loki, and their broken-down relationship in song. Here's a bit of it, but I do suggest you go and have a listen to the whole song. The last verse in particular kills me, though this is the opening:
> 
>   
> _I think it's getting to the point  
>  Where I can be myself again  
> I think it's getting to the point  
> Where we have almost made amends  
> I think it's the getting to the point  
> That is the hardest part_  
> 
> 
>   
> _If you call, I will answer  
>  And if you fall, I'll pick you up  
> And if you court this disaster  
> I'll point you home  
> I'll point you home_  
> 


	7. Same Ghost Every Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thor is far too obsessed with cows and chickens, Tony is remarkably restrained, Coulson decides to sensibly sleep through the entire chapter, Loki reveals why he never taught anybody anything, and Jane has A Very Bad Day Indeed. And that's not even counting the Cthulhu thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...um, well, this turned up far quicker than I thought it would. I suppose partly it's because large chunks of it were written while I was working on the previous chapter anyway, but...I also suspect it's the longest chapter yet. Which is peculiar because I thought it would be the _shortest_ , wth.
> 
> So, I do apologise if it rambles all over the place a bit; there's some background here I needed to set up for the inevitable mindfuckery of the (presumed) penultimate chapter. Also, I am amused to note that this chapter includes a scene I've been wanting to write since I finished the story that started this whole sorry saga. I think you should be able to guess what said scene was.
> 
> And yeah, believe the tags -- that boy sure needs therapy. But then, at this point, I'm starting to think _everybody_ does...

The low murmur of voices seemed to sway in time with the motion of her body. Gentle and rhythmic, both reminded her of the swing of a hammock, the whisper of an incoming tide. With difficulty, eyes feeling as though they’d been welded shut by saltwater and dust, Jane cracked them open. Desert air rested warm on her face, the taste of it against dry lips lightly tainted with smoke and charred flesh. The iron tang of blood followed close behind.

Yet she felt an odd comfort that was echoed by the steady beat of a heart beneath the armour where her cheek rested. She didn’t need to turn her face upward to know she was in Thor’s arms. But at the angle she rested meant she could make out the slender shadow of his brother at his side. Some of that comfort drifted away, and she closed her eyes again. The heavy exhaustion of her limbs encouraged her to slip back into sleep, though the vague murmurings between the brothers and the third who apparently walked beside them caught her curiosity and squeezed it tight.

“No, come on, sorcerer to scientist,” that third was saying, voice deepened with fascination, “what the hell _was_ that thing you two did?”

“A trick.”

Thor snorted, adjusting her weight slightly even as he did not break stride. “Even I would have to name it something more than that, brother.” He directed his next words at Tony; presumably from his clear speech he had the faceplate up, but the heavy tread of his feet suggested he still wore the suit. Jane wondered where they were, exactly, as Thor added, “It’s not something he often allows me to do.”

“Pretty bloody effective, though.”

From the thinly disguised irritation of Loki’s voice, the sorcerer took little pleasure in a mortal engineer’s admiration. “If you must know, it both amplifies my own high-impact energy blasts and allows me to lace them with the influence of Mjölnir.”

“A joint attack, then?”

There was no mistaking the stiff warning there now. “In a manner of speaking.”

“So why don’t you like doing it?” Tony went on, feigning blithe disregard for emotional cues in his own imitable manner. “Recent history aside, naturally.”

Loki remained silent for such a long moment Jane thought Tony would be receiving no answer, for all she felt a low rumble of amusement move through Thor’s great chest. Then, the so-named God of Mischief gave an exasperated snort. “The first time we performed the manoeuvre, it was entirely accidental. Only my own quick thinking saved me from either spearing myself through a tree, or being immolated by Mjölnir’s silver flame.”

“Your power has grown much since then,” Thor replied, an odd tilt to his voice she did not understand. “Though she never would have burned you, Loki.”

“So you’ve said before.” And before Thor could speak again, though Jane felt his lungs fill with the air with which to speak, Loki said with clear disgust, “I believe that’s the welcoming committee, at last.”

“Hey, if you didn’t want to walk, you should’ve just teleported us all there.”

“It’s a form of instantaneous matter displacement, Mr. Stark, not _teleportation_. And I rather suspect you would not want to see the result of such if I undertook it with a group which included unfamiliar mortals after the energy I have already expended today.”

“That messy, huh?” Yet he laughed in the face of danger, as Jane had always known him to do. “Well, if you turned me inadvertently into hamburger, we all know that this guy at least wouldn’t complain! He’d probably even volunteer to make a cheeseburger out of me, and he’s a _vegetarian_.”

Even as she struggled to open her eyes, Jane felt herself slipping away again. _Must have hit my head harder than she’d thought_. Not that she even remembered hitting her head at all. Then she realised Tony was carrying _Coulson_ and had to think she was just dreaming. Or dead. Either way, her mind had given up on reality in the meantime and there was nothing she could do about it.

 

*****

 

“Jane?” A hand rested upon one cheek, deceptively gentle for all the war-won calluses she could feel upon the pressure points of palm and fingers. “Jane, are you all right?”

“Stop poking at the mortal, Thor. If it wants to sleep, let it.”

“Yeah, now that’s _real_ charming.”

“And that’s quite the compliment, coming from the master himself,” Loki replied, mild and yet as cold as a hard winter’s frost as he turned to Tony. “Perhaps we should take lessons together, you and I.”

“Oh, great,” she muttered, shifting slightly; pain lanced sudden and sharp through the hip she’d bruised back at the Bifröst site. “So you guys are best friends, then. Has the world already ended, or are we still just getting there?”

“Jane!” Thor’s joy rose to such dangerous levels he all but vibrated with it, like an overgrown golden retriever being shown the lead. “You’re awake!”

Struggling to sit up in a familiar armchair, she felt unutterably glad that Thor had sense enough not to smother her with an embrace just yet. “Where am I?” Aching all over, it seemed like she’d run a marathon. From the strapping on her ankle and the dull ache in her hip, she had the feeling she hadn’t finished said marathon. Slitting her eyes against the light, she dared another look at Thor. “Am I all right?”

“You’re fine – a doc had a look at you, said it was nothing major. Just the stress of…what you saw.” Tony shifted, and she could see that he’d ditched the suit with no visible injuries of his own. “We’re in town. Your lab.” That explained both the warmth of the chair that fitted to her in familiar curves, the thick afghan over her knees. “I think Fury’s going to transfer us all out to New York, maybe. Once this is sorted.”

Jane’s head snapped up. “Fury’s here?”

“Not yet, but he’s on his way.” Despite the fact he seemed not all that worse for wear after his adventures in pseudo-squid control, Jane caught a haunted flicker in his dark eyes. “This is some pretty fucked up shit. And that’s even by my standards.”

“The portal’s closed, then?”

“In theory, yes.”

Her head jerked around. “In practice, no?”

Loki gave her that odd smile, the indulgent one that couldn’t help but remind her of the way a non dog person might tolerate a loved one’s cherished pet. “Your efforts were not in vain, Dr. Foster. The portal collapsed. It’s simply that wards must be worked to discourage its opening again here, until a more permanent solution can be achieved.”

“Who’s working these wards?” Again she struggled upward, this time pushing the blanket aside. Both made her feel like an invalid, a damsel in distress – and she had no intention of being either. “Aren’t you the only sorcerer around here?”

“I merely gave the technicians something to work with. They’re doing science, not sorcery.” He almost seemed amused by her perplexed expression. “Perhaps you’d like to aid them, though for the moment I do believe your Dr. Selvig is supervising adequately enough.”

At first Jane couldn’t identify a single one of the cascade of emotions that poured through her at the mention of his name. Eventually, she settled on caution and decided she could deal with the rest when they met again. “He’s…here?”

“No, he’s still in New York.” Tony leaned close, made to rest a palm upon her forehead until she gave him what Darcy referred to with hushed awe as her _glare of certain death_. “You…should really lie down.”

Not that he sounded convinced of it, in the face of her annoyance. “I’m no more hurt than the rest of you,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “So let’s go do this thing.”

“Not yet,” Tony said, even as Thor said simultaneously: “The Son of Coul wishes to discuss what happened before we proceed further.”

Even as Jane heard Loki mutter something that sounded distinctly like _that has to be the first time I’ve ever seen you accept a need to discuss matters first, rather than just barrelling head first into peril_ , she said, “Is he all right?” The memory of the creature they had faced down together trailed cold fingers down her spine. “Coulson, I mean?”

“I appreciate your concern, Dr. Foster. But I am fine.”

She half leapt out of her skin, turning towards the sound of the tired voice; she hadn’t even realised he was in the room. Indeed he felt to be a wholly diminished presence now, and while he’d just said he was fine the closer Jane looked the less fine he appeared to be.

“Really?” she said finally, and he gave her a thin smile.

“Yes. Though I suspect I really ought to have called Barton back when all of this really kicked off.”

“Tell me about it,” Tony chipped in, and again she caught that faint scent of exhaustion about him too. “Next time we have to fight the Eldritch abomination squad, _totally_ get Steve and Clint out here. I’m volunteering them for Cthulhu detail.”

“You have a problem with Agent Romanov?”

“Oh, no. Not a bit. But you know how it is – hot redhead, naughty tentacles. You want me to be able to focus on the task at hand, right?”

“Can I tell her you said that?”

“Always knew you hated me, Phil,” he said, perfectly cheerful. “Still, getting Natasha to do your dirty work’s kinda lazy.”

The agent had his tablet to hand a moment later, stylus at the ready; despite his set expression, Jane caught the slightest tremor in his hand. “I’ll text her now, shall I?”

Tony raised a tumbler of what Jane sincerely hoped was not scotch, no matter what kind of day they’d all just had, and gave a surprisingly neat salute. “Wow. Never thought I’d see the day would Phil Coulson would bunk off a meeting to text a pretty girl.”

Coulson stabbed the touchscreen with the stylus; it gave an alarmed beep. “To business, then.”

For all Tony had been the one to choose to play up first, Thor was the one who continued it. “First of all, there is one thing I must do before this goes any further,” he said firmly, and before anyone could think to protest he leaned forward from his chair, twisting his body sideways. Both large hands moved up to cradle Jane’s face with a deceptive gentleness, for his kiss was hard and relentless and warm, summer rain against parched earth. Her surprise melted into swift hunger, though she’d only just raised her own hands when he pulled back, blue eyes dancing with both mischief and apology.

“I’m sorry,” he said with a wink, “but it had to be done.”

Breathless, Jane couldn’t help her giggle even as Tony added an appreciative wolf-whistle of his own. “Are…are you always like this after going out and smashing things with your giant hammer?”

A smothered snort from the general direction of her right gave her answer enough. Yet Jane very purposely didn’t look at Loki. This was her moment. This was her victory.

But still, Thor couldn’t let it pass unanswered. Letting Jane go, he sat back, raised an eyebrow as he regarded his brother with clear amusement. “How now, cow? What’s bothering you?”

Both of Loki’s eyebrows rose in challenge. “Oh, so we really _are_ starting that again?”

“Starting what?” Tony asked curiously, even as Jane wished her ankle didn’t hurt; if it hadn’t, she’d have kicked him in the shin. Loki went on regardless.

“Thor’s helmet – which we must note he is most conspicuously _not_ wearing, not that he’s ever been inclined to worry much over the results of head trauma – makes him look like a chicken.”

“And yours makes you look like a cow?” Jane extrapolated, sharp; even as Tony guffawed Loki rolled his eyes.

“We are _not_ discussing this.” A split second later, he added with airy unconcern, “But he hasn’t worn it while flying for some time.”

“You filled my chambers with chicken feathers!”

Loki blinked. “It could’ve been worse.”

Despite his bulk and his age, Thor pouted like a three year old. “They screamed when I tried to sweep them up. _How_ do you propose it could have been worse?”

Jane couldn’t decide what was harder to imagine; screaming disembodied feathers or Thor with anything as mundane as a broom in hand. “What was the point of that?”

“Well, you see, I would have preferred headless chickens running in circles, which is exactly how Thor looks the evening before he is due to give any speech. But that would have made a mess.”

Tony stared at him with his glass exactly halfway between table and mouth as if looking at a new and exotic conquest in the making. But even that didn’t bother Jane, not exactly; she’d heard enough of and from Tony Stark to realise he’d do what he wanted if it struck him as amusing enough. The look on Thor’s face troubled her more. In it she could see pleasure, fondness – _love_. Given what she had seen of Loki in the last twenty-four hours, she could reluctantly admit she was starting to see why Thor had loved him so. Why he still did.

Yet Jane could not forget Loki as he’d been that first time they’d met – nor could she just disremember the Loki who had goaded his brother into killing him, the Loki who had burned Thor’s restraining hand with nothing more than his true form.

 _But which one of all those Lokis is the real one?_ she thought, despair settling over her with sudden smothering silence. It didn’t help that Coulson had closed his eyes, apparently refusing to be drawn into the ridiculous argument. He’d even leaned back into his own chair, quite content to let the battered remnants of their ragtag team work off their excess energy before bothering to kick them back into useful shape.

The first kink in Thor’s pleasure came a moment later when he tried to sling a comradely arm around his brother’s shoulders; Loki must have sensed it coming because he ducked out of range. Thor frowned, but gallantly went on. “If only our friends had been here to share in our glory!” he boomed, “why, then you all would have truly known what it is to share in the glory of Asgard’s finest warriors!”

Loki’s eyes darkened, but Tony got in first. “What, Jackie Chan, Xena, and Robin Hood, you mean?”

“You’re forgetting one,” Jane remarked, and then frowned. “You’ve also never _met_ any of them…have you?”

“It’s what the report named them. Or at least, the dude who phoned it in did, and some archivist continued the fun the whole way through.” He reached over just far enough to poke Coulson with his now empty glass. “I didn’t realise you hired people with senses of humour, Phil.”

The agent didn’t bother opening his eyes. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

“Oh my god. I need to record this for posterity. Where’s Lewis when you need her?” Thor’s look was confused, Loki’s unreadable; Jane knew her own was just plain warning.  “What? Come on, he’s always saying I’m not funny!”

“You’re hilarious, Tony,” she said, but dryly as she’d meant it Tony Stark could only take such things as invitation.

“Hmm. You know what, I think from all I’ve heard of him, I’m naming the last dude Prince Vultan.” Turning from Jane’s stare, he gave Thor a wheedling smile. “Do you guys have Hawkmen on Asgard? Because if you do, we should totally get Clint in on this!” Suddenly, his head snapped around, Loki’s cool glare obviously catching him unawares. “What are you staring at?”

“Oh, I merely thought my brother had the monopoly on inane amounts of post-battle dribble, that’s all.”

Jane blinked. Thor’s smile returned, then widened; Loki himself seemed utterly unaware of what he’d actually said. Instead he just stared at Tony, who was laughing uproariously.

“God, it’s like he’s high,” Coulson muttered, still with his eyes closed and the back of one hand now pressed to his forehead.

“Is there any time where it’s not like he’s high?” came a fresh voice, low with irony; Coulson rocked upright so fast he almost tipped himself off his chair, usually sharp reflexes still dulled by their experiences at the Bifröst site.

“Director Fury.”

“Nick!” Tony opened his arms wide, as if intending a hug though he didn’t rise from the table. He then added with arch wryness, “Dude, I don’t care how many kegs you’ve brought, you’re still way too late to the party.”

“Didn’t get the invitation until a bit past the RSVP date, as it were,” the man said, dark and official as death in his black leather. That aura of efficient authority had little effect on Tony, who just shrugged and indicated the table they had chosen as a temporary focus for their meeting.

“Oh, well, shit happens,” he said, and this time pointed to another corner of the room. “Pull yourself up a seat, we were just discussing how I’d be more behind your boyband initiative if it involved macking on my teammates after every mission.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Yanking a chair over with as much effort as he’d used had it weighed as much as a feather, he straddled it backwards as he took a place beside Coulson. “I would remind you that sexual harassment lawsuits are not covered by SHIELD expense accounts, but then I suppose in your case that’s hardly going to be any sort of deterrent.”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, it was just Thor and Jane. They’re done it all before.”

“Although one must bear in mind that Thor did once mistake me for Sif,” Loki remarked, sudden and scathing. “In retrospect it was a pity I wasn’t Sif, as she’d have smacked him upside his stupid head. I, on the other hand—”

“—looked like a stunned cow?”

His lips thinned in the face of Thor’s gleeful remembrance. “ _Feathers_ , Thor.”

“Actually, I think if you fill Thor’s room with screaming chicken feathers that constitutes an act of war.” From the expression on Loki’s face he took no issue with the idea, though Tony missed it by turning to Thor first. “But how did you mistake Loki for a girl? Besides the obvious.”

“ _Apparently_ it’s because we have the same coloured hair, which made it all the easier for the error to occur.”

“You have only yourself to blame for that, brother.” The Aesir’s amusement was already melting into what seemed a rather nostalgic sort of exasperation. “And you’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Is any of this relevant to that thing just out of town this afternoon, where you all tore a page out of the Necronomicon and scattered it halfway across the county?”

Jane had to give Fury considerable credit for the fact he did not react at all to the stone cold glare this interruption earned him from Loki. Unsurprisingly it was Tony’s tongue that leapt to the rescue. “Should have told me you’re a Lovecraft fan, Nick. I’d have saved you a shantak and everything.”

The question came to her so suddenly she let it burst out immediately, not caring about any interruption to serious business. “Why aren’t the Warriors Three and Lady Sif here?”

Thor blinked, and Jane couldn’t decide if he was ignoring Fury’s glare or simply just didn’t notice it. “They were not required.”

“Surely we _require_ all the warriors we can get,” Tony said, slow, and Loki rolled his eyes skyward as if they were all particularly stupid children.

“Generally speaking the Aesir are not to interfere in mortal affairs.”

Nick’s flinty look could have cut through steel. “Which totally explains why I am told you hold the cosmic cube.”

“ _Tesseract_ ,” he corrected, clearly irritable despite the long relaxed lines of hand and body. “And I am Jotnar, not Aesir.”

“That means he does what he wants.”

At that helpful addition Loki gave Tony a special _look_ all of his very own. “I am also outcast from Asgard.”

“No, brother,” Thor said, strangely quiet. “You were never banished.”

Loki ignored him, splitting his gaze between Fury, Tony, and Jane; Jane didn’t think she imagined the fact that she received the lion’s share of it. “Thor is somewhat the exception to the rule. The ties he forged with mortals were made largely when he was mortal himself, and outcast. Therefore he may do as pleases him best.”

“Like you.”

Tony grinned with suave charm, and Jane thought he was saved from Loki’s retribution only by Fury’s sharp parry. “And what pleases you, exactly?” he said, the question demanding nothing but a straight answer. “And tell me: why will you not surrender the cube back to those to whom it belongs?”

“I will do so. But understand that it does not belong to you.” Scorn bled through the tiny holes in his veil of cool contempt, smouldering and rich. “I am saving you from your own ignorance.”

“Why?”

Jane’s single-worded question hung for a long moment upon the air, as simple and sharp as the hanging blade of a guillotine. When he turned to her again, Loki’s smile was as thin as that edge. “You are a curious woman, Dr. Foster,” he observed. “For that alone, I could almost gladly tell you many things about the bridges that traverse the nine realms of Yggdrasil.”

“I’m not stopping you.”

“What does this have to do with the fact you won’t give me the cube?” Fury added, voice a warning rumble; Loki snorted.

“Give me time, and I will get to that.”

“How much time do we actually have?”

“Time enough.”

Jane bit down on a comment about the inevitability of differing perceptions of that concept between mortals and gods, though from the glance she received from Loki he’d caught the aura of the thought. Before he went on, she thought she saw the faintest of smiles. Then, gravity of purpose descended upon his slim shoulders like a mantle meant only to be borne by a king.

“This entire predicament in which we all share begins with the issue of how the passages between realms are made and maintained,” Loki said, tone both didactic and disdainful. “The Bifröst is of course not the only such pathway, but it is the brightest – and also the greatest of them all. It also is the only direct path to Asgard.”

“But there are others,” Fury prompted. Loki inclined his head.

“Yes. But they are not so easily opened, or traversed, or both.”

“You know some of these…darker paths.”

This time Loki shook his head, though his disappointment in the limits of mortal understanding didn’t seem to have surprised him. “They’re not _dark_ , not by nature. They are simply different.” One hand rose to still the inevitable query. “And yes, I know of some of them.”

“So Asgard is the only place that can make the Bifröst?” Jane asked, slow. This earned her a nod.

“The Bifröst as is, yes – but other realms are capable of generating their own pathways, though often only in theory these days.” He paused, reluctance slowing his words. “For instance, Jotunheim relied upon the Casket of Ancient Winters to open and close its equivalent.”

“Which is why Father confiscated it after the great war,” Thor volunteered in a low tone, his first direct contribution to the lesson; Loki flicked his eyes sideways, an inscrutable look concealed tight beneath them.

“Yes.”

“Loki, where is it now?”

There was a strangeness about Thor’s question, an odd kind of vulnerability Jane had only ever seen from him when speaking of Loki and his fall from grace. From the expression on Loki’s face, he liked seeing it no more than she did. “I have it still.”

Jane jerked, the knowledge closing like a vice about her throat. “You can open gateways like the Bifröst?” she whispered.

“No. Not with the Casket.” Scornful now, Loki leaned back in his chair, pushed a hand through his hair. “Like Heimdall’s observatory, its power is tethered to Jotunheim, at least in that respect. Its passage must begin or end within its borders.”

“But there are other ways,” Fury repeated, and Loki nodded.

“Indeed there are. But they are small ways, twisted and shadowed.” Jane did not like at all the small curve of amusement that quirked one side of his mouth upward. “You need much larger passages to bring through armies, understand.”

Fury went very still – though not from fear, Jane thought. It seemed something far closer to a quiet simmering rage. “They wanted an army.”

“They _have_ an army,” Loki corrected. “It’s their determination to bring that army down upon Midgard and subjugate you all.”

In the silence following that revelation Jane thought she might never enjoy a trashy science-fiction film about the end of the world quite the same way ever again. Somewhat to her surprise, it was Coulson who spoke next, exhausted and yet none the less firm for it. “And how did you know about all this?”

Thor leaned forward, hands flat and still upon the table as he fixed his eyes upon his brother. Loki sighed, flipped a hand in weary disregard. “Call it penance, if you must.”

“Penance?”

“When I was in the Bifröst storm, before I made my own way to Midgard through one of the lesser passages, I…made some acquaintances, shall we say?”

“You were part of this,” Jane said, slow and careful even as a dark thread of pure pulsing _hate_ wound itself into the pattern she knew as _Loki_ ; he turned on her with a force sharpened at both ends.

“ _No_.” He almost immediately turned that compelling force upon his brother, eyes wide and furious. “They were already aware there was a vulnerability in the Midgardian passages, and wished to take advantage of them – because I myself was trying to slip through the spaces in between, naturally they gravitated towards my superior knowledge.”

“What vulnerability?” Fury asked even as Jane added, “What knowledge?”

“ _She_ was poking at the gates.” The poke of his finger in her direction hurt, somehow, even as he shrugged off the gleaming shards of bitterness a moment later. “Though that really wasn’t it, not solely. The cube and your misguided experimentation with its influence was far more of a threat than young Dr. Foster here.”

“You’re saying we brought this on ourselves?” Sceptical now, Fury clearly found Loki’s tale too convenient for a known liar. Sensing as much the god gave a slight shrug and then a wince, as if he had pulled on something already stretched too far.

“I’m saying that it would have happened sooner or later anyway.” For the first time Jane noted the deep lines of exhaustion in his too-pale face, the tightening of over-strained muscles in back and shoulder and arm. “Yes, I did encourage them, but for one very simple reason.”

“Which was?”

“I owed Thor an apology.” His brother caught a choked breath, but Loki’s attention remained solely upon the director. “In being here to assist you in pushing back the threat to your realm, to the one he loved enough to lay down his mortal life for, I have made it. Therefore we are done here.”

“ _Loki_ —”

He raised a hand. “Don’t start this again, Thor.” Yet while Loki’s words drove him to silence, Jane felt as though Thor’s misery shouted itself with every blink of his wide eyes. “Listen to me, Thor – even I find that words are inadequate to express anything of what has occurred. I can’t imagine you would ever be able to succeed where I cannot. Therefore I suggest you do as I shall, and let it go.”

“Let you go?” he said, a scarce whisper.

“Yes,” he said, relentless as the tides. “We are not brothers, and we were never meant to be at one another’s side. By birth alone, we should have been separated by the width of Mjölnir itself.” Thor shook his head, every motion a curt denial that Loki would not allow to stand. “I will not hurt you any longer. You have your mortal, and her realm is safe from the most recent threat. Let that be payment enough, and let me go.”

“You didn’t owe me anything,” Thor said, immediate and nearly harsh, his voice roughened with saltwater; Loki’s returned expression was very nearly pitying.

“I rather think I did.”

An uncomfortable silence descended. Jane had to believe that both Fury and Coulson, soldiers unto the end, could not be pleased by the tangents this peculiar conversation had taken – but still, neither man seemed capable of speaking in the face of the raw agony that moved between the two gods seated on the other side of her table.

“Where will we you go?” Fury asked finally, awkward. Loki dropped his gaze, breaking the silent conversation he had held with his brother, and shrugged.

“Elsewhere. Away from here. I will not make any further attempt to return to Midgard unless I have word of some threat against you and your peoples – on that you may have my word.”

“Your word seems pretty flexible at the best of times,” Tony observed, oddly subdued; despite his own muted temper, Loki gave him something almost like a laugh.

“Spoken by a master of flexibility himself, perhaps?”

“I am one talented bastard,” he freely admitted, and Loki turned from Tony as if truly giving up for the last time. The manner in which he subsequently addressed Thor was far more grave, and utterly unforgiving.

“I do have one last piece of advice.” Only the tightening of his hands upon the table suggested anything of the turmoil Jane knew had to be twisting and turning inside of his quick and clever mind. “I would suggest that you take the cube back to Asgard. The Allfather will know what to do with it.”

“Take it back with me.” Thor spoke quietly, but with a great depth of purpose that threatened to swallow both of them whole. “To our father. Together.”

“What, and pretend like it was when we were adolescents?” The incredulous note rang sharp, breaking through his harsh veneer of practicality. “That we could go off on half-cocked adventures against all known laws, edicts, and decrees, then just buy our way back into favour with the artefacts we returned with?”

“It always worked before.”

A complicated series of emotions wrought a twisted path across his face. Then, shaking his head, he ceased the motion only with a deep facepalm. “Oh, _Thor_.”

“Just like the old days,” Thor said triumphantly, and even Jane had trouble telling if he was referring to Loki’s reaction or to the plan itself. From the long-suffering look Loki gave him, even he hadn’t made that decision.

“The old days are dead and gone.”

Not even Loki’s cool tones could deter Thor’s blind faith in the world cleaving to his will. “They don’t have to be.”

“I am not getting into this discussion with you.” Loki stood, pushed back from the table. “I will remain until the portal has been properly dismantled and warded against further usurpation, but then I will leave. I have nothing else to add to this conversation.”

Indeed, as he turned and crossed the room to take one of the solitary chairs near the front door and the uneasy mass of SHIELD personnel beyond, Loki seemed determined not to get into any further conversation with anyone. Not looking at a one of them, Loki closed his eyes, bent over his clasped hands and lapsed into still silence. Now that he had dropped the animation of his impromptu lesson, Jane could clearly see just how drawn and exhausted he was. While Thor looked energised from the battle, as if bloodlust and battle gave him energy, Loki appeared utterly drained.

Still, Fury did not look at all pleased by his self-removal. But opening his mouth to complain, to call him back, struck Jane as a particularly poor idea. A moment later she spoke right over him, addressing her question to Thor.

“Will he really be all right?”

Her question startled him from his staring. “He has healing magics,” he said finally, though she heard the doubt behind his words. “Though I suspect much of his energies has been expended in the battle.”

Across the repurposed restaurant Loki sighed, though he did not raise his head. “I know I’m ignoring you, Thor, but I would appreciate it if you didn’t talk about me like I’m not even in the room.”

For a moment, Thor said nothing. When he did speak, his voice resounded with both melancholy and joy. “I’ve missed you.”

“So you’ve said.”

“Are you not ignoring me any longer, then?”

At that hopeful query Loki looked up; long-suffering, his voice holding a warning note, light though it remained. “You _are_ making it difficult.”

“Good.” He put one elbow on the table, leaned forward in what he probably thought was flattering curiosity. “Because really, how do you assume I am to take this cube back to Asgard on my own? If you think I’m fool enough to touch it unshielded…”

“You’re fool enough for a lot of things, Thor, but I’m pleased to see in at least this much you’ve learned something.” Straightening in his chair, Loki pushed back the hair that had fallen in loose strands across his face. “The _tesseract_ can be contained. In fact, something very similar is inside the Casket of Ancient Winters.”

Jane felt only the slightest surprise to hear as much, remembering the peculiar light of the thing. Fury frowned at the revelation instead, though from the quick sideways look he gave her, she caught a modicum of gratitude for her successful intervention. “I believe I’m missing something here – you mentioned it earlier, but what _is_ this casket, exactly?”

Thor patted the seat next to him, even as Loki frowned. “The source of their power. Right, brother?”

“Yes and no. And it was never the energy they wanted, those creatures you saw.” With a clear sigh Loki unfolded himself from his current chair, returned to stiffly take his place at Thor’s side once again. “The tesseract has the power to remake reality. This is why Jotunheim became a wasteland without it; its ability to support the life upon its surface was largely dependent upon the entity within the casket.”

That thought gave Fury serious pause for the first time. “It’s…alive?”

“In a manner of speaking.” Closing his eyes, he took a steadying breath for no reason that Jane could immediately perceive. “It needs an associated consciousness to recognise what it must do. Without it, it has no purpose.” When he opened his eyes, they shimmered a green too pure and bright to ever be mistaken for human. “The reason the elder creatures wanted it so badly was not just for the energy it would provide to generate a pathway of sufficient stability and size – it was also because this world is not like their own. To live here, they would need to remake it to suit their own mode of reality.”

“Which is why I felt like I was losing my mind just by looking at them?” Jane said, quiet; she could feel Coulson’s echoed shudder, even clear across the table.

“Precisely. I would assume you’ve felt a similar sensation upon staring at the tesseract itself.”

Swallowing hard, Jane looked down at her hands and felt a ridiculous relief to count just ten fingers there. “It’s like it’s real, but then it’s not.”

“It is both. And neither.” He paused, opened his mouth; then he appeared to dismiss the next words as pointless. Instead, he said, “The tesseract I took from New York is not yet fully awakened, hence my ability to keep it somewhat close to hand with no…ill effect, that I have noticed. But I could not do the same with that which resides within the Casket.”

“So that’s all you need? A magical box to put it in?”

Loki met Fury’s scepticism with cool calm. “The Casket has no inherent magical properties of its own.”

“Then how does it keep the tesseract inside?” Tony asked, and for the first time Jane noted he’d long since pulled out one of his home-built tablets and was furiously taking something very much like notes.

“Two reasons. But the simplest is that if one cannot see it, then one cannot know its state. One can only guess. From that, it is both, and it is neither, and therefore the system can be held in perpetuity.”

“Like Schrodinger’s cat.”

Loki raised an eyebrow at Jane’s murmured words. “It’s Midgardian custom to keep cats in boxes?”

Pushing a hand back through her hair, finding it still lank and filled with dust, she narrowed her eyes. “I think you know what I mean.”

“Perhaps I do.” Resuming the loosening of his guards, Loki added with mild grace, “The strongest sorcery tends to be the simplest, for all many a fool has thought to make even the easiest—”

The alarm cut him off, blaring from the directions of Coulson and Fury simultaneously; even as both hurriedly yanked out their phones, Loki’s head jerked around like a bloodhound scenting its prey.

“Loki, what is it?”

He didn’t look at Thor, dark brows pulling close together in their equivalent of a dire frown. “They’ve let it open again, the fools,” he muttered, and suddenly his temper blazed up like water thrown into acid. Slamming his hands down upon the table hard enough to make the entire construction shudder as if on the verge of collapse, a lupine growl escaped his throat. “It was a simple task! In Hel’s name…if you want something done right in Midgard, obviously you just have to do it yourself.”

Yet even as he turned to stalk away, a hand on his wrist held him immobile. “No, Loki.”

For whatever reason, those words hit Loki particularly hard. He _snarled_ , the loosed fury of even a masked Jotun a terrible thing to behold. Yet his voice remained dangerously low, a cursed mineshaft just waiting to swallow a foolish explorer whole. “What did you say to me?”

“Look at you. You’re exhausted.” And despite the undeniable truth of that Jane stiffened; a green aura, faint but uniform, had began to manifest about Loki’s form. She couldn’t understand why, though the thought occurred that a combination of exhaustion and temper was causing Loki to lose control over what magics remained to him. Fearless in the face of whatever it was, Thor’s hand tightened, pulling him downwards. “Let me do it.”

Loki resisted, hissed his negation. “You don’t even know what you’re doing.”

“I have a hammer. Surely I can just smash it, whatever it is.”

“Just smash a potential _reality bomb_ , are you mad—” His free hand had been moving outwards in a gesture of violent dismissal. Abruptly it stopped no more than halfway through, along with his words. The uneasy aura vanished. With uncharacteristic heaviness he dropped into his chair, leaned back, eyes rolled halfway to the heavens even as he glared at his brother. “That is _not_ funny.”

Thor let go his hand, something childishly charming in his barely contained mirth. “You should have seen your face!” he actually _chortled_ , and Loki’s eyes flared with something like disgust. Yet the fact that his magics had slipped away said far more.

“Honestly, why do I even bother?” he muttered, and rhetorical as the question was Thor gave an immediate answer.

“Because you still know what we were raised to be. Perhaps we weren’t born to this, but this is what we are.”

“You will always be an idiot, Thor.” This time Loki held out his hand, wriggled the long fingers impatiently. “One last dance, then.”

Thor clasped it without second thought. “I’m leading.”

“Yes, you may go on thinking that.”

Neither rose. They simply vanished. Fury’s face was a cacophony of annoyance, irritation, and a near sense of helplessness Jane might have found hilarious if not for the memory of the creatures the brothers had already dispatched between them.

“I’ve just about had it with Norse gods today,” the man muttered finally, and another chair scraped against the floor as Tony pushed to his feet.

“Good thing they haven’t had it with us, I think we kind of need their help.” Turning in the direction of his trailer, he called back, “I’m suiting up.”

“Your suit’s wrecked, isn’t it?”

Tony rolled his eyes in a way that seemed intended to mock the fact Fury couldn’t. “I packed a spare, Mommy.”

His immediate departure left a very loud silence – as well as Jane, Coulson, and Fury, though Fury then started barking orders into his phone. Staring at his own like it was an alien device, Coulson shifted in his chair. “Am I the only one who noticed Mr. Laufeyson didn’t choose to grace us with the second reason why this magical box doesn’t have to be magical at all?” he said, finally; Fury paused between calls, voice a low growl.

“We need to get that damned cube back, god or no god.”

Her hands flew up, and Jane pushed back from the table with her good foot. “Hey, don’t look at _me_.”

“You’re romantically involved with his brother. Who is also a god.”

“His adopted brother. And their relationship isn’t exactly tight right now.”

“We can’t allow this to stand.”

“No duh,” she muttered, and then flinched at the combined power of the looks this earned her from both Fury and Coulson. “I don’t even know what the damn thing is! You had Erik working on it, not me.”

“We’ve already passed on this new information to him.”

The bitter taste of betrayal never got any easier to swallow. “Yay.”

“Dr. Foster, you’re not well.” Fury was already climbing to his feet, the meeting clearly over in his mind as he looked to the soldiers outside; they appeared to be falling into stiff formation. “Perhaps you should go and lie down.”

“Perhaps _he_ should lie down too, he’s the one who just had most of his sanity for the week sucked right out of his brain like sherbet,” she shot back, jerking a tart thumb in Coulson’s direction. “I’m not going anywhere – so is there some way I can watch any of this?”

Fury’s visible eye narrowed to a sceptical slit. “What difference will it make?”

“Every difference.” She folded her arms over her chest, held her ground despite the aching reminders of her own misadventures in the field. “I’m the closest thing you have to an expert, right? So let me expert.”

Fury gave Coulson only the briefest look; the agent had his eyes closed again, forehead creased in deep and dark thought. The director then let out a long breath, shook his head like he was never going to get paid enough for this shit. “Fine. Forget the mobile command unit, Coulson – we’ll divert the signal through here, make use of some of the toys Stark left Dr. Foster.”

Jane might have smiled, if not for the grim line of purpose her mouth had already set itself into.

 

*****

 

Given the earlier experiences of her increasingly surreal day, Jane thought nothing could be worse than being in the midst of the battle – never knowing if a creature might be a mere second away, just waiting to eat her brains or do whatever else passed for fun in their world.

But it was far worse to sit on the other side of a screen and watch as those same scenes played out before her helpless gaze. From the muttering going back and forth between Coulson and Fury and another two agents, they were no happier. They at least appeared to be united on the fact they would not be sending in any of the more common soldiers at this point in time. Coulson floated several other names – she recognised Barton and Romanov, though not Rogers – but Fury just returned that some personnel had to remain in New York, for all they’d not seen any creatures of the sort that had started creeping through into New Mexico again.

That left just three people on the field, and while Fury’s passwords and protocols had hooked them into Tony’s comms they had no such direct contact with Thor. Still, they were all more unnerved than relieved to have Loki’s voice slither smooth and sudden through the digital receiver.

“Science and sorcery,” was all he offered as explanation before asking Jane’s opinion on a spell he wished to weave.

Above and around him Thor and Tony kept to the physical. Loki himself had clearly chosen not to fight – at least, not in so direct a fashion. Like before he’d raised a shield, of sorts, before turning his attention to the flickering hole in reality where the Bifröst terminus had once been. “Anchor points are always vulnerable,” he said shortly; data was downloading to Jane’s leftmost screen and she had no idea where it was coming from even as Loki went on. “It makes it easier for one to tether to, if they know its form and shape – and, most importantly, its weakness and vulnerabilities. The Bifröst generally will not allow such desecration, but due to the severing of the rainbow bridge and your own efforts at forming a path, it’s become something of a free for all these days.”

Guilt bit sharp teeth into her heart, even when she tried to remind herself that Loki was likely more responsible for the entire situation in the first place. Still, it was Fury who made the thin observation: “I’m sure you’re not helping matters.”

“It’s not generally my chief occupation, no.”

Yet he saved most of his largely curt communication for Jane alone; Fury’s expression darkened as he began to realise Loki saw little point in following any order he might care to give. Not that Jane could see why he thought he could be surprised about that sort of thing; he himself had said as much when he’d named both as gods.

_And what mere mortal could hope to bend the will of a god to their own ends?_

At least they seemed to be having a degree of success; Tony and Thor dealt to anything that came through while Loki kept a distance from the portal that allowed him to work with minimal interference. Only rarely did something stray close to him; the three or four times Jane noticed it, he dealt to each with a concentrated blast of energy that left her mouth dry. He didn’t even look up to do so, the aiming of such a weapon seemingly innate. It still left her cold.

_When Thor told me about their last trip to Jotunheim, he said something about Loki’s evasive magics, and his skill with throwing knives – but why would he bother with either of those, if he could do this?_

The distraction of the tasks he gave her and his own apparent self-sufficiency were the root cause of the final problem. Another creature drew close, a slavering crimson construct of long arachnid legs with half a dozen knobbled joints and six wings of pulsing ivory membranes. The seven faceted eyes fixed upon the sorcerer with deep hunger, and it skittered close with alarming speed for something with so many spindly limbs.

 When Jane noticed, it was at a glance upward from a particularly nasty equation Loki seemed determined she use to manipulate magic despite the fact she felt sure it was a prime example of the Heisenberg principle. For that, she didn’t say anything; she had enough supporting evidence to suspect Loki’s awareness of his surroundings stretched to senses a human could not be expected to understand. It didn’t appear relevant to her that he was deeply engrossed in a working, his entire body tense with power and effort.

When its shadow fell over him and he showed no reaction, Jane’s heart stopped dead. “ _Loki!_ ”

He half-turned, and the annoyance on his lips evaporated to leave behind something very much like blind horror. Her hands crushed over her mouth, barely stifling a scream as the creature thrust forward with one leg – a leg lined with a thousand glittering knives of horn and bone.

A moment later, it came: thunder from the heavens, enough to rock the earth even of Puente Antiguo. Jane fell from her chair, heard the groan of one of the other agents even as Fury let loose a particularly impressive string of curses. Ignoring the burn in her hip Jane grasped the desk, hauled herself upward. Of course it was him. Of course he’d thrown himself down to act as the barrier between the life and death of his brother.

“ _Thor_!”

The creature was dead, that much was obvious; between the concentrated lightning forced through its every aspect and the green flame that burned its remains to greasy ash, it seemed impossible that it had ever been alive. But she had only eyes for the unmoving bulk beside it, for the dark shadow on its knees at its side.

“Guys?” Tony’s voice shook. “Guys, what the fuck’s going on down there?”

Jane pushed back from the desk, stumbling and blinded. But she could feel the light of the open door, knew the direction she had to go.

A hand closed about her upper arm. “Dr. Foster!” Coulson’s voice shook despite the strength of his grip. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I can’t…I have to…”

“He’s fine.” Shaken as he was, Coulson pulled her around; she groaned at the yank of tendon in hip and ankle, but he tilted her relentlessly towards the main screen. “Got right up. You have to stay here.”

Her eyes could not register the sight as real. Thor no longer lay in the New Mexico dust, noble sacrifice to his bullheaded notions of loyalty and love. Instead he moved through the sky again, his roared fury mingling with the thunder of Mjölnir until both were indistinguishable. Loki stood near the portal, his eyes far, far too green as he stared at a camera as though he could see her as well as she did him.

“Listen to the mortal, Dr. Foster. I require further assistance from you. You are better out of the conflict zone.” Again, though Thor had told her at least once before that Loki read only the language of bodies and mouths, not minds, she still felt as if he had peered straight into her soul when he added thinly, “I have pushed enough of my own essence into him to accelerate his healing while he battles ever onward. The idiot will live.”

 _But did you really have the energy to spare?_ Even through the dust and smoke, Loki appeared bone-pale, every muscle taught with exertion both physical and sorcerous. Yet he returned to his work, to the peculiar patterns he wove out of the air itself. Numb, Jane looked down to the screens, to the data that appeared there from the sheer force of Loki’s will. She could not stop either. There was always work to be done.

 

*****

 

Despite the fact he’d blazed on through the injuries Loki had been able to only half-heal, cutting down every enemy that came within the considerable range of Mjölnir, when the portal collapsed again Thor’s great bulk seemed to sag beneath a great and invisible weight. Jane could not make out his expression through the operational cameras, but the angle of his limbs and the set of his shoulders pointed to pain and unhappiness. Yet he remained a relentless force at his brother’s side.

For his own part Loki did not appear much better; though he still moved with speed and purpose, the usual grace Jane associated with his lean form had utterly vanished. He’d also ceased talking to her; from what she’d gathered before he’d done so, he’d decided the scientific adaptation of the sealing wards would be far less efficacious than his own sorcerous workings. “Of course they won’t hold after I’m gone,” he’d said sharply, “but it will have to do for the meantime.”

Jane hadn’t been able to see Thor’s face at all during that statement. She was yet to decide if that was for the best.

When he had finished his work, Thor trailing him in silence like a gloomy puppy, Loki paid no heed to the mass of personnel that had formed a perimeter around the site. With no apparent desire to wait for traditional transport, for the first time he actively acknowledged his brother’s continued presence – and he did so by turning on him with forbidding purpose, wrapping one long-fingered hand about his forearm. Jane’s eyes widened and Coulson muttered something particularly obscene just out of hearing just as the two were enveloped in a preternatural green light. Then Jane shrieked, pushed back her chair; Loki and Thor stood just a metre in front of her, somehow both real and utterly unreal. Before she could speak Loki gave his brother a rough shove forward, then took a step back for good measure.

“Take care of this utter fool. I don’t even want to _look_ at him right now.”

Grim pronouncement made, Loki disappeared again. Climbing painfully to her feet, wincing at the pain in both bruised hip and ankle, Jane reached out a hand and paused. His head was bowed, and she could clearly see that he was shaking. “Thor. _Thor_ are you—”

He yanked his hand free, the realisation hitting her hard. It was not pain. It was not fear. Instead it was _rage_ , pulsing through his great body like a loosed live current. “Loki!” The demand roared up from deep in his chest, and Jane winced; Thor didn’t have a great indoor voice at the best of times, but as he looked wildly around the volume seemed to be going far beyond the tolerance of mortals. “Loki, do you dare to walk away from me?”

There was no indication of whether or not the sorcerer had heard that, but it didn’t matter because as soon as he’d finished, Thor stormed away with Mjölnir still in hand. Even though she suspected if Loki did not wish to be found then not even Thor could do so, Jane threw Coulson and Fury a helpless look and gave chase. Matters were considerably slowed by the fact her aching hip and ankle left her with all the speed of a snail, even with a crutch for support.

Yet Thor seemed to have a sixth sense for his brother – or at least he certainly believed he did, for he moved with unerring purpose for the fire ladder that went up onto the roof of the once-was restaurant. Jane looked at the ladder, then at the crutch. With a sigh, she dropped the latter and moved forward to grasp the former; they’d strapped her ankle up well enough. Besides, she figured she’d lucked out; presumably Thor had decided the roof would be the best place from which to survey their surrounds, for all the good it might do him. In the meantime, Jane supposed there could be worse places for her to try and calm him down. She winced as she began to climb, and not just because of the pain. Calming down Thor when in any sort of berserker mode was likely to be beyond her capabilities.

_I’m still going to try, dammit._

But to her shock, when she climbed up she immediately saw not only Thor, but Loki – his lean silhouette, quite unmistakable in its frosty demeanour, stood at the far side of the roof. He appeared to be looking out over the town he had helped damage so extensively. Instinctively she ducked her head, but didn’t back down. When she chanced a peek over the edge, Thor remained at the centre of the roof. His fists were clenched, Mjölnir sparking quietly where it hung from his belt.

“I would speak with you, brother,” he said, and Jane could not help but be surprised at the conversational tone he managed. Then she was just downright shocked when it was _Loki_ to lose his temper first, storming across the roof to shove at his brother with both hands.

“You _idiot_ , Thor, how dare you do something that stupid?!”

“How dare _I_?” Thor’s incredulity turned to fury with the swiftness of a spring storm. “I have always trusted you before to take care of yourself, to attend to your safety in battle. And yet here I turn my back on you and the next moment you stare death in the face with all the sense and reaction of a frightened child!”

“I was _distracted_.” Though Loki’s words were hissed rather than shouted, the green fire of his eyes more than equalled the force of his brother. His mocking smile grew wider. “Battles are not all swords and shields and giant oversized hammers that shoot lightning, Thor.”

“I don’t give a damn what you _think_ battle is.” One hand reached forward; Loki stepped just out of his reach even as Thor added hotly, “I know that you _know_.”

“You know _nothing_ ,” he sneered, and his lips twisted into a malicious grin that turned the sweat on Jane’s hands ice-cold. “Perhaps it was nothing more simple than the fact I had decided my debt had been repaid. Perhaps I was just done. With you, and this world, and this entire damned life.”

Thor had gone pale, but his eyes sparked with bright anger. “You weren’t done. Not even with the task at hand. Don’t lie to me, Loki, _you were not done_.”

This time his smile was bitter, twisted his face into planes and shapes of a near-impossible geometry. “Fine. No, I wasn’t.”

In the wake of truth came only silence, and certainly no understanding or compromise. The two gods faced off still, glaring at each other with such force it seemed remarkable they were still standing. A terrible desire bubbled up inside of Jane, a sudden need to scramble up and over the edge so she might throw herself between them.

She did not move. The futility of it was painfully obvious to her mind – due both to their personalities, and their very natures. Aesir, Jotnar, and human: of the three species she knew that only she could be hurt in ways they simply could not. And yet she couldn’t help but think she should move now, should come between them before things could become any worse.

Then Thor stepped forward. Any injury he had taken in protecting his brother’s life was entirely forgotten in the purposeful movement. For all there seemed no real violence to it Loki’s hands shot upward in reflexive response, blades appearing in his palms as if from nowhere; Thor caught his wrists, squeezed hard enough that he reflexively let go. The long knives clattered to the floor and still he laughed.

“Those are not my only weapons.”

Thor set his jaw hard, his grip tightening. “Yet they are not what you went for first,” he said, knowing; Loki just rolled his eyes skyward.

“My magics are merely depleted, Thor. They are not exhausted.”

“And yet you would raise them against me?” He shook the wrists he held as if he believed his own hands to have become manacles. “Even if it would only hurt yourself at least as much?”

“If it becomes necessary.”

“Why?” The hurt bled out from beneath the anger, blazing in both heat and demand. “ _Why_ , Loki? Because I wish to save you from yourself?”

“Is _that_ why you did it?” Loki jerked back, but still Thor did not let go. “Is that why you came racing to my rescue like a hero in a fairytale, berserker blood pounding through your damned Aesir veins as you sought to rescue the most worthless example of your people’s greatest enemy?” This time Loki did not draw back; he stepped close, scorn dripping from every word he now shouted just an inch from his brother’s face. “Is it because perhaps you believed that saving me would mean I’d feel myself indebted to you, and to your damned desire to drag me back to a realm that is no longer one that would ever welcome one of my blood?”

“You shout these things at me like they even matter,” Thor answered, flinching not one bit. “As if you believe the louder you shout, the more they will matter.”

“They matter,” he said, dark and low now – and Thor shook his head.

“I tell you now, they do not.”

“They matter to me.”

“As you matter to me.” Again, anger had been subjugated by frustration, by the deep intensity of confused misery. “ _That_ is why I saved you, Loki. Because you are my brother and I love you.”

“Why must you beat that dead horse, over and over?” Vicious, Loki again tried to twist free; Thor’s strength held him immobile, his magics apparently more depleted than even he’d admitted to. “Saying such things over and over will not make them true! Even I, the silver-tongued liesmith, understand that mere words cannot undo reality itself!”

“Then what can?”

“Let go of me, Thor.”

His hands only tightened further, and he leaned forward; Loki turned his face away, refusing to acknowledge Thor’s presence despite the obvious proximity of their bodies. Thor’s wide mouth twisted, broad shoulders tense with the task of holding Loki still.

“Loki, damn you, I will not let you leave me again,” he hissed, anger rising again as he shook his bound hands. “You will always be my brother.”

“I’m _not_ your brother!” Loki all but shrieked; Jane winced, wished she could have covered her ears as they rang with the unnatural volume of his declaration. In defiance Loki snapped his head back around, locked green eyes upon blue.

The silence that fell between then hung heavy, like the sharp promise of a sword of Damocles above all their heads. Both gods were very still, the air between them charged, a storm just waiting to break. Yet when Loki spoke again, it was no thunderclap to rend the sky in twain. Instead the world ended not with a bang, but a whisper.

“I’m not your _brother_.”

For all Loki’s words clearly were the instigating factor, a challenge and a promise and a plea all in one, Jane could not even be sure who moved first. Yet he’d barely finished speaking when his head went up and Thor’s head came down, their lips meeting in a brutal kiss.

She gasped. But while she clapped one hand over her mouth she could already see she needn’t have bothered. Neither paid her the slightest attention. As she choked on her own breath Loki’s hands rose to fist in his brother’s long blond hair; Thor merely pressed his wrists harder, ensuring there would be no escape. Not that Loki looked to want to go anywhere.

Her mind might be a white-out of shock, but one thought remained, red and blinking: _I should go. This is not something I am meant to see._ Shock kept her frozen in place all the same, trapped breath rasping in her throat. Then they broke the kiss, though they did not separate; Thor’s arms crushed his brother to him, Loki’s head thrown backward with the possessive force of it. The single word he spoke aloud resonated with love and loathing and desperate pleading need.

“ _Thor_.”

Only the most basic sense of self-preservation kept her from just letting go. Jane still half-slid her way down, only just suppressing a shriek as her abused ankle hit ground. Then, she turned. Then, she ran – or at least, she limped and flailed a path away from the restaurant. Away from the lab. Away from _them_.

Half-blinded by her tears she struggled on, though not one had actually fallen. Her eyes felt as though they were cataracts made of saltwater. When she eventually stopped dead it wasn’t because she could barely see. It was more that she had no idea where she was going, not that she thought it likely mattered. Not now. Not anymore.

“You win, you goddamn bastard,” she whispered, hoarse and throaty as the smoked-out voice of an oldtime jazz singer past her prime. “You goddamned _god_ bastard.”

She had no real idea how long she stood there, swaying like a drunk. Then: a voice came out of the distance behind her, a hand coming to uncertain rest on her shoulder.

“Hey, Jane – is something wrong?”

When she turned, her delicate balance deserted her entirely. “Whoa!” said the voice, but it was too late; she went down hard. Opening her mouth to speak, Jane blinked hard against the damned threatening tears, saw nothing more than shining shoes of Italian leather. Words roiled in her mouth, twisted on her tongue like worms on a hot plate, frantic and desperate for escape. She wanted to tell him. She wanted to let it all out, the misery and the horror and the impossible inevitability of what she had just seen.

Instead she just threw up.

“Oh, did you have to do that? I know I’m a billionaire, but come on! These were brand new!”

On her knees still, her hip moaning and her ankle screaming, Jane wrapped her hands around her abdomen and curled in upon herself. Something like shame beat at her temples, joined by a sudden blinding headache. But he couldn’t have really minded, she thought dimly, because his arms went around her and he pulled her close to the warm glow of his chest.

“…Jane?”

She wanted to say something. She really did.

In the end she just gave up and cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EVIL CLIFFHANGER IS EVIL.
> 
> ...sorry?
> 
> Still. Disclaimer in regards to the pseudo-science in these last two chapters: while I beat out the "political" thing with "pharmaceutical" (sorry, Darcy), my knowledge of physics doesn't go much beyond viscosity properties and emulsifying techniques. I _do_ like to cackle with undue GLEE over the absolute mindfuckery that is quantum mechanics, but I can't claim to actively understand it. So if my SCIENCE in this is like a great black hole of WTF, sucking in your sanity and never once letting go, I...apologise? ^_^ It's probably a good thing I'm not writing Clint, I'd likely mess up his archery even worse than apparently even the movie's going to. [[cough](http://www.wired.com/geekdad/2012/03/avengers-hawkeye-archery/)]


	8. Haunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Darcy regrets ever taking advice from Lady Gaga's "Paparazzi," Tony proves he's never going to be invited to lead a cub scout troop, Thor is as always better with action than with words (or so he must tell himself), and Loki and Jane have a heart to heart which goes down like a lead balloon. That's on fire. OH THE HUMANITY.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know how I said something about long chapters and how I thought these latter ones wouldn't be? Ha. Ha. Bloody HA. This really probably ought to have been split in two, but then that ruins my illusions of a nine chapter fic (it makes me feel better than ten, in some warped way). I hope it's not too much to wade through, for all the promised mindfuckery kind of comes into play here. (Loki, what even is that thing.)

Her memories of the night before felt cramped and crooked, stuffed so awkwardly inside her mind that she couldn’t even be sure that was where they belonged at all. As said mind lumbered its way back into consciousness she supposed that was why everything around her felt just as wrong, just as strange. Then a voice spoke, the cadence and concern so familiar she almost wept with gratitude.

“Jane?” A pause, then: “How are you feeling?”

“I…” Sitting up amongst a tangle of bedclothes not her own, Jane squinted at her surroundings. The resultant vertigo didn’t help her disorientation one little bit. “Headache. Hip hurts. And my foot, still.” Rubbing at her eyes, she realised it definitely wasn’t her trailer. “Where am I?”

“Temporary SHIELD outpost, a couple miles beyond the town limits.” Darcy put down her iPad, gave a little shrug. “It looks a bit like an old-school wagon corral. It’s kind of funky – retro, you know? Tony even offered to get out a guitar so we could all sing _Kumbayah_ round the camp fire. And then he got really worried about everyone dying of dysentery and broken legs until he realised we were in New Mexico and not Oregon.” Jane felt an odd shiver down her spine as Darcy’s smile suddenly spluttered like a car back-firing, and then just faded away. “I…think he was pretty drunk last night.”

“Where is he now?”

“Sleeping off a massive hangover.” She paused again, then clearly grimaced. “Or at least, he would be if that pirate dude hadn’t dragged him out of his trailer at four this morning.”

“No rest for the wicked,” she murmured, her pity giving way to a vague sense of disquiet. “Can’t decide if I’m insulted or not, that they’ve just left me alone.”

“You needed to sleep. So did Phil.” Again, Jane had to think that the pinched expression she now wore didn’t suit Darcy in the slightest. “Not that he slept that much. I went and had a drink with him this morning, actually, which is how I saw Tony’s wake-up call, but…”

Jane had meant to sound comforting; she suspected she just sounded tired. “He had a rough day.”

“You all did.”

This time she managed a thin smile, though only for Darcy’s benefit. “Hope yours was better…not that it would have been hard, yeah?”

“They were going to send me to New York. To Erik.” And yet she didn’t sound at all happy about it; a moment later Jane realised why. “I said I wouldn’t go anywhere without you.”

“And they _listened_?”

“Phil did,” she said, and again she shifted in her chair, as if she didn’t remember how to get comfortable. Jane frowned. Even given her own last memories of the day before, there something odd about Darcy. Then her heart tightened even further when Darcy said softly, strangely, “Thor’s been in to see you a couple of times.”

“Okay.”

The guarded answer only left Darcy’s expression all the stranger. Her voice lightened half a tone, but Jane could sense a probing quality to its forced cheer. “Hey, I met his brother, too.” When she tilted her head, dark hair a tangled cloud about her pale face, she forced a smile that reminded Jane of grinning skulls. “You didn’t tell me he was drop dead gorgeous.”

Though she laughed, it was stilted; even when it was a genuine conversation, Jane had never been good at gossip about men and sex. “Trust me, Darcy, you’re not his type.”

“Maybe I don’t _want_ to be his type,” Darcy replied blackly, immediately dropping all pretence. “Come on, he tried to barbecue Thor that one time, remember? And sure, he looks like he’s helping _now_ , but I’m sure there are other ways of showing my gratitude than throwing myself at his feet, beautiful bastard or not.” Moodily she drew her knees up beneath her on the chair, looking far younger than her true age. “God, I’d date Phil first.”

“… _Phil_.”

“Just theoretically. I’m not a homewrecker, that’s way too mainstream.” Still, all protests to the contrary, her face brightened as she considered her words and their subject further. “But did you know, he can take out four armed men with the contents of just _one_ shelf of your pantry? Doesn’t even matter which shelf. But apparently flour’s the magic bullet. Nice big bag of—”

“Darcy.”

She pouted. “He showed me!”

Rubbing her temple for a moment, Jane then looked at her hand and counted just the five fingers. She still gave Darcy a dubious look. “So, how much morphine have they shot me up with?”

“None.” She almost looked apologetic as she added, “Why, do you need some?”

“No. Just making sure reality’s as screwy now as it was when I last saw it.” Swinging her feet out of the bed, she leaned her weight on hip and ankle, winced to find that that wasn’t something a decent night’s sleep could take care of. A quick scan of the room revealed a pair of crutches, at least; she was willing herself into reaching over for them when Darcy frowned.

“Where are you going?”

“Figure I might as well go and talk to Fury. Or Coulson, if he’s up.”

“He’s up.” Not that this appeared to please her; she in fact looked deeply unhappy. “Can’t sleep without being knocked out, he says – and he won’t let anyone do that until this is fixed.”

“They’re all insane.” Tears pricked her eyes, and it wasn’t because of the continuing complaints of her swollen ankle. “ _Christ_.”

All will to move had left her in one great sigh, and she sank back down. The urge to bury her face in her hands was great, but Darcy wouldn’t allow it. Still, her voice was uncharacteristically forlorn when she spoke. “Jane?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s up with Thor?”

She’d known the question would come, but somehow she’d convinced herself Darcy had already let it go. She also could tell Darcy saw right through the light-hearted voice she tried for. “Why, what’s he doing?”

“I…don’t even really know.” Frustration tangled her fingers, keeping them in knots in her lap; for the first time, Jane realised Darcy’s clothes were too big, and nothing at all like her usual hipster style. “He’s just acting…weird. Like he’s wound too tight but doesn’t know how to let it go.”

The words stuck in her throat, but Jane forced them out along with that damned lying smile she’d never wanted to perfect. “What about his brother? Where’s he now, do you know?”

“Not really, but…usually they’re together. I saw them walking around a lot last night, though to be honest they seemed kind of…pissed, at each other.” Trepidation and relief couldn’t come to terms with one another in the snarl of her mind, but Darcy had taken up staring at her hands and didn’t notice. “Loki visited Phil for a bit, I think, and I know I saw Thor drinking with Tony at one point. I think that’s why he’s so fucked up this morning, actually.”

“Trust Tony to try and drink a god under the table.”

Any amusement Jane found in that disappeared with Darcy’s miserable clarification. “Well, before that he was calling Pepper and begging her to come sit with him until he went to sleep, so maybe that was an improvement.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” she said, but only weakly. Darcy didn’t even try to pretend anymore, very quiet where she sat, a shrunken shadow of her usual snarky self. When she looked up, glasses sliding down her nose, Jane didn’t think she’d ever seen her so tired.

“Jane? Don’t you _want_ to see Thor?” A little sparrow of fear began to flutter down low in Jane’s abdomen, but it had already taken full flight in Darcy’s eyes. “Are you…angry at him, or something?”

“It’s…complicated.”

“It’s to do with his brother, isn’t it?”

There wasn’t enough time to catch the sharp look before Darcy flinched underneath it; Jane quietly swore to herself. Though she didn’t think Tony would betray her trust, he’d obviously been drunk enough last night to seek out a nightlight in Pepper Potts. Still, she tried for wilful ignorance. It was really all she had left. “What do you mean?”

Again, Darcy shifted in that uncomfortable way that left Jane feeling like someone had turned over two pages of the book of their lives at the same time. “There’s…something I should show you. Maybe.”

“Something? Like what?”

“It’s from a while ago.” Even as Jane’s own dread only grew, Darcy struggled with her own clear reluctance. “I had these cameras set up on the other side of the lab, you see. Outside.”

“Why did you set up cameras?”

“To stalk Tony.” Her embarrassment, at least, had an edge of normality to it – or at least, as normal as a conversation about amateur paparazzo could be. “It was a gif I wanted to make, all right? I just needed the right video. The right swagger.”

Her defensiveness at least gave Jane genuine reason to smile. “I’m sure you could have just _asked_ him.”

“I did ask. And we did try. But it was never right.” The frustrated sigh tangled itself in her wry grin. “And then that afternoon I noticed him walking from his trailer to the lab and it was _perfect_ so I figured I’d set up some motion-sensitive cameras and catch him when he didn’t know it was happening, so…”

“How did you even afford this?”

Something about Darcy’s skin-tone reminded Jane distinctly of lobsters thrashing around in boiling water. “They’re Tony’s cameras.”

“He _facilitates his own stalking_?”

“Tony Stark.” Jane kept staring, and for the first time that day Darcy laughed outright. “Come _on_. Why are you so surprised?”

“I have no idea,” she said ruefully, but even as she guided the conversation back to what she suspected would be rough territory she could not regret the laughter. “So what, you needed Tony strutting around to make a gif?”

“ _Haters gonna hate_.” For a moment she brooded, a writer who had dreamed a perfect story only to wake up and find it vanished with the gone night. “Would’ve been perfect, too.”

“You never got it?”

“I got something else.” That was when Jane’s heart tightened again, and she knew that the true point of the story was creeping close enough to draw blood. “It was one of the cameras out beyond your trailer, even beyond his. You know, that post? The one that we never worked out what was for?”

She knew. A large piece of unfinished wood, it stood alone for no known purpose perhaps a hundred metres from where she’d anchored her trailer when she’d first arrived in Puente Antiguo. Darcy had eventually decided all it wanted was to grow up and be a cactus, and therefore obligingly painted it green one afternoon when she was supposed to have been collating datasets for Jane. In the time since it had acquired a cowboy hat and a pair of yellow plastic sunglasses. And an ammunition belt, complete with always-dry water pistols.

“Well, I put a camera there.” The sense of foreboding only grew with the accompaniment of Darcy’s own misery. “I got…kind of a weird video out of it.”

“Do I really want to see this?”

“I don’t know.” At the _look_ Jane gave her, Darcy might have thrown her hands up in despair if she’d had the energy. “Honestly, I _don’t_. But I just…I just don’t get it, you know?”

On such paths, Jane thought dully, people stumbled headfirst into hell. “Get what?”

“Thor and Loki.” Adjusting her glasses seemed to help her see things no better at all. “I mean, Loki tried to kill him, right? And then the next we see of him, he’s punting Tony out of your trailer and saying he never wants to see Thor again. Next thing he’s saving the world from all the evil aliens, and I just…what’s his problem?”

“I think he’s got a few.”

“I think Thor’s one of them.” Jane stiffened, and Darcy grimaced even as she started pressing sharply at the tablet’s screen. “Not that I’m blaming Thor, exactly, I just…yeah.”

She’d obviously long since made the decision because only a second later she held out the iPad Tony had augmented with god alone knew what in terms of Stark software and hardware.

“Just hit the screen, it’ll start.”

Jane did, and let rational thought fall by the wayside as she stared at the light grain of the scene unfolding before her. There was no audio, but that didn’t surprise her. She almost preferred in that way. Like a silent movie it put immediate distance between her and the two figures, as if they belonged to another time, another world.

 _You idiot_ , she thought in sudden, stifling understanding. _They do. They really **do**_.

But in this video they were standing near the sun, _her_ sun, silhouettes against its brilliance. Even without previous context, even in the dawn-tinged gloom, they were easy enough to identify: one lean, one well-built, both tall. The date was inscribed at the bottom righthand corner of the screen, but she knew what she was looking at even before Loki took his brother’s hand. She cursed her scientist’s memory; so easily the conversation beforehand came back to her, and with it the scent of ice-burnt flesh.

_“Do you not see now? I am not as you are. This is no more my world than Asgard, or even Jotunheim.”_

_“Please. Loki, not again. I cannot do this again.”_

_“You are only thinking of yourself. And you’re hurting me.”_

That burn on Thor’s hand had been gone when she’d seen him the next morning – after this conversation. Though for all that, it did not seem to have been peaceful. From the gestures made, there had been a good deal of shouting. Wryly, Jane supposed that was to be expected; Thor may not have habitually used words as his chosen arms of war, but his voice was a mêlée weapon on its own merits. Loki himself was mercurial, with a temper quicksilver as his tongue. Suddenly she wished she could hear him, even as she felt glad she could not.

Though he’d dropped it early in the argument, Loki reached for Thor’s hand again. Thor’s shoulders had slumped in apparent defeat, but at his brother’s unprovoked touch his head jerked up. The odd tableau this made was something like a shadow-play, or a Japanese ink painting: black against a backdrop of orange and ochre and the faintest birthing hints of blue.

Joined in silent stillness, the long pause went on so long the motion-sensitive camera almost shut off. But then Loki raised Thor’s hand as he bent his own head downward. The magic, if that was what it was, was as subtle as Loki’s sheathed madness. But Thor jerked as if Mjölnir had channelled the charge of a thousand storms through his body. Loki remained still, lips pressed to palm and head bent low.

“He…he just healed his hand, Darcy.”

“Mmm,” Darcy said, and shifted. “Watch it for another second.”

Dread coiled around her heart, like a snake constricting tight against its ability to beat – but Jane couldn’t look away as Loki climbed back to his feet, again on equal footing with his brother. There was no way to tell if they spoke in that motionless between them, but in the end it was Thor who stepped forward. In perfect tandem Loki stepped back. A hand stretched out to bridge the gap between them, the one that Loki had healed. It caught him just at the level of his neck, though gentle with it – Jane could sense no violence on either side, not even when Thor moved inwards. Forehead to forehead they stood, the sun a mighty rising orb behind them.

At first, Loki allowed it. Then, matters of permission became moot and he was just gone. The camera’s picture stuttered somewhat, minutes passing by in seconds before another figure walked into view. Jane recognised herself, turned it off before the two on the screen could meet again.

“He just healed his hand, Darce.” Poking the iPad back into her unresponsive hands, Jane shrugged with a light disinterest that was utterly at odds with the weight of her leaden heart. “And so he should have, it was his fault in the first place.”

“But don’t you think there’s something… _weird_ …about that?”

Even with that vagueness, Jane winced. She knew what Darcy had meant – and not just from the grainy photo of a Stark-funded paparazzi venture. No, Jane had been in the same room, had sat at the same table when those two gods had looked at one another and let their shared past descend upon them like a shield against the world beyond themselves.

“They’re brothers,” she said, weakly. “And they were very close, before…”

“…before Loki went batshit insane?” Darcy finished, doubtful and dark. “You know, for all it sounds like he’s being Mr. Superhero right now, I’m guessing he’s either still batshit insane, or just getting batshit insaner while nobody’s looking.”

The tiredness that swept over her then felt deep enough to drag her forever out of the reach of the golden sun. “We need his help, Darcy.”

“What if it’s not help he’s giving us?” she insisted. “What if it’s all just some trap? I mean, Erik…”

Her stomach twisted. “What about Erik?”

“He’s been acting weird, too.” She paused, like a child with its finger on a trigger it knew it was never meant to pull – then she did it anyway. “I mean, think about it, Jane – he goes behind your back all this time, then pisses off to New York, and then all this happens? Convenient, isn’t it?”

It hurt, and she didn’t even really know why. Or perhaps she did, and just couldn’t admit to it. Dropping her head into her hands, she shook it harsh and hard. “Darcy, I can’t deal with this now.”

“But you have to.” In the darkness, in their silence, her breathing grew harsh, her voice high-pitched. “Jane, I’m _scared_.”

“Darcy—”

“I am!” Still Jane could not look up, and Darcy’s voice sped up so much the words tripped and trailed all over one another. “I know Thor’s our friend, and he’s protected us before, but…what if his brother really has gone nuts? Because Thor still loves him. That’s obvious, no matter how you look at it. But, if push really comes down to major fucking shove…whose side will he be on?”

Without any care as to permanent damage Jane pressed her fingers into the hollows of her eyes and grimaced. When she let go, for a long moment her vision danced with black and silver stars. When it cleared she didn’t actually feel any better. “All right. I’m up. Let’s do this thing.”

Such deep relief crossed Darcy’s face that Jane felt almost sorry for her. “I could go find Phil for you. Doubt he’s sleeping or anything.”

Ignoring the hand that waved her back beneath the blankets, Jane resumed getting out of bed. “I’m not an invalid.”

“I know, I know.” Something like sheepishness crossed her drawn face as she stood up and crooked an elbow. “But I’ll still help you down out of the trailer. Because I’m a pal like that.”

Before they got that far Jane had to put some decent clothes on first; apparently whoever had transferred her from her own trailer had thoughtfully emptied a few of her drawers into a nondescript black suitcase. Despite her earliest reactions to SHIELD invading her personal space, somehow she just couldn’t feel violated by that. Not after yesterday. There were worse things, in her estimation, than being involuntarily shifted to an impromptu SHIELD facility in the wake of a housecall of Cthulhu.

Darcy proved a surprisingly effective crutch as they left the trailer, though they had to stop for a moment to accommodate Jane’s surprise as she blinked at the sight before her. It really did resemble something like a wagon train, with various caravans and trailers spreading outwards like the petals of an unfolding rose. Various people moved about the camp, and Jane noted her own trailer was near the middle. Unfortunately this meant her arrival attracted some attention – and she stiffened as she realised it was too late to turn back. Thor, standing not ten feet away, broke off his conversation with Coulson to stride towards her with his blue eyes glinting in the morning sun.

“Jane!”

Holding tight to Darcy, Jane waved aside any embrace. Though she managed a weary smile, somehow it hurt to see he wore the jeans and shirt she had chosen for him. Then, all personal concern aside, she felt a pang of worry; given the unpredictable natures of both the portal and the sorcerer who had most recently claimed to have closed it, perhaps he ought to have been in armour. Then, she thought darkly, it had been proven at least once already that Loki and his magics could restore Thor to his true form in a moment. Not that she could see the so-called God of Mischief anywhere in sight now.

“Where’s Loki?”

A wariness entered his eyes – or perhaps she just confused it with weariness. “He discusses the tesseract with Erik and the Director.” One hand reached out, gentle fingers like the touch of a ghost high upon one cheekbone. “How fare you?”

Usually his archaic oddities of speech charmed her. She felt too tired to care today, even as she missed his warmth the moment his hand fell away. “We’re going to go see Coulson.”

“I see.” Anxiety did not sit well upon his broad shoulders, made him look ungainly in his broad bulk. “Jane, before you do…we must talk.”

Pained and firm though as his words were, Jane wished she could just turn away from them. She’d never felt so tired in her life – and for the first time, she actually began to wish they’d never even met.

As if responding to her thoughts, Darcy’s hand tightened on her arm. “Jane, I don’t think—”

“No, Darcy, it’s fine.” She ached to talk to him, even as she wanted to turn tail and run. The throb of her ankle reminded her that she wouldn’t go far. “Go sit down with Coulson, have another drink with him, I’ll be there soon.”

The disbelieving squint this earned her very nearly made her laugh. “You know it’s eight-thirty in the morning, right?”

“Well, even if you’re not drinking, I’m pretty sure I will be soon enough. Save me yours.”

“Uh, sure.” Then Darcy gave her a despairing look laced with the vestiges of whatever good humour still remained to her. “Well, if Tony doesn’t get to it first, anyway.”

“That Tony,” Jane said, knowing it was more affection than admonition driving the sentiment. Still, she sobered sharply when she turned back to Thor. “Do you want to do this out here, or should we go inside?”

The question appeared to confuse him, not that she could understand why. A moment later, she did. “Jane, is something disturbing you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, something is.” _And not just the fact that I’m beginning to understand why you drove your brother – perhaps quite literally – insane; surely you can’t really be this dense?_ “Look, let’s just go back inside.”

With Darcy gone perhaps it was only natural he should help her. She still wanted to shake off his touch. Somehow she couldn’t. Even with the memory of him entangled in his brother’s embrace, her body instinctively curved towards his, a stream of water responding to the natural call of a magnet placed far too close to its fall.

Only when she was settled on the bed again, Thor now in Darcy’s place, did he try again. “Truly, Jane, are you well?” The increasing desperation behind his eyes, if not his words, only made her feel worse. “I’ve been in to see you, several times, and not a once did you open your eyes.”

“I was tired,” she said, and she couldn’t be ashamed or embarrassed of the peevish note. “I’d barely slept the night before, and yesterday…” She tried to remember details even as her mind shied away from them, and in the end closed her eyes and gave up. “Yesterday was just _shit_ , you know?”

But when she opened her eyes and really looked at him, she realised he _didn’t_ know. Though she sensed something very troubled about his aura, it didn’t exist for the same reason her own disquiet did. He’d enjoyed those battles. He’d invoked his brother’s wrath during the second, of course, but before that he’d been utterly in his chosen element.

 _This is what you were born to do_ , she thought, and despite the long hours of dreamless sleep felt suddenly very tired again. _And Loki knows that as well as I’m beginning to_. With that thought burning a whole clear through her will to go on she sighed, spoke anyway. “Thor, I don’t trust Loki. At all.”

A pained expression threatened to turn his face inside out. “While I cannot argue that you’ve had reason in the past—”

“—I don’t think the present is helping him.” Already she despaired; even the beginnings of this conversation felt like wading through molasses and still she had no real idea how to say it, if she even could say it. _Thor, I saw you last night…_ As a thought, such a thing seemed so simple. It would say so much in so little. But it was as if her mouth had been bound shut, and nothing came out.

Then, something else exploded from her lips like a hand grenade whose pin she didn’t even recall pulling.

“You know, sometimes I wish you’d never got Mjölnir back. Sure, you’d have been a slightly loopy guy who just happened to fall out of the desert sky during an electrical storm, but you’d have been mortal. You’d have been _mine_.” She paused, caught a breath, and yet still felt like she suffocated. “But now…you don’t belong to me. You don’t even belong in this _realm_.” That particular word tasted bitter, heavy with the memory of Thor in her truck…she’d thought him mad, back then. She had to wonder if her first impression might have been the correct one. “So why are we even pretending like this is ever going to work?”

He’d been born and raised both a warrior and a prince. Jane knew the former far better, but when he looked at her now with a regal sort of stillness she found at last she recognised the latter. “I am what I am.”

Yet it wasn’t confidence that drove the statement – it was simple truth. Somehow that hurt more than anything else ever could have. “I know that. God, don’t you think I _know_ that?” she said, her voice still a trembling aftershock of her initial seismic fury. “But you know what makes it worse? If you hadn’t proved yourself worthy of Mjölnir, none of this would have happened. My work would have been unfinished. And how I could I wish for that?”

“Jane—”

She waved her hands in impotent frustration. “I don’t want to be one of those women who give up everything they dedicated their lives to just to be happy with some man,” she said, voice rough and rasping. “Even if that man is a god!”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“I know you don’t.” Even as some part of her yearned to just give up, to let it go there and then, Jane kicked the heel of her uninjured foot against the bedstead, hands clenching into fists. “That’s the hell of it, really. We’re from different worlds. _He_ knew that. God, even I knew it, really, right from the start – if I’ll just admit it, anyway.”

When he took a breath, it was deep and shuddering. “You’re talking about Loki.”

“Yes, I am. It’s about Loki. It’s always about goddamn Loki.” She raised her hands, let them fall to slap against her thighs like a sharp gunshot of restless aggravation. “He brought us together, then he pulled us apart – and then he brought us together again, here and now. The thing is, though – it’s not about me. It’s never been about me. It’s always been about _you_.”

Thor’s expression might have been shuttered, but to Jane it said everything she ever needed to know. “We have been together all of our lives—”

“So you’ve said. So _he’s_ said! You’re Thor and Loki, Loki and Thor. Brothers whether by bond or by blood – sun and moon, light and shadow, warrior and sorcerer, king and queen.” Something flickered in his eyes, then. Jane though it might be something very close to shame, given the tightening of his hands. But she didn’t care. She went on – because she wanted this. Because she _needed_ it. “This isn’t your realm, Thor. It’s mine. But if your damned brother wants to destroy mine to return to yours, then whose side are you going to stand on?”

“Jane—”

“Because he’s going to make you choose.” The shaking of her voice felt like the tectonic plates of her heart crushing together, pushing her agony up into jagged scars to crisscross its vulnerable topography. “Is is so crazy, then, is it so _wrong_ that I’m going to make you do it first?”

He answered with only silence, blue eyes like unmoving glaciers in his still face.

 _But then, glaciers are always moving – whether you can see them doing it or not._ And she shivered, thinking of his brother, thinking of how his Jotun form had been so cold in everything but the crimson blaze of his eyes.

“Thor—”

“What do you want from me?” Flaring up like kindling word touched by a stray spark of a brooding storm-sky, Thor lurched to his feet. “Have I ever given you reason to distrust me, Jane? To believe that I would endanger you or your realm simply for the love I bear the one who has always been my other half?”

“I don’t know!” she shouted. “Because when I think about it – do I really know you at all?”

Again, stillness crawled over every inch of him, leaving him more statue than man. _But then you’re not a man at all_ , she thought miserably, even as he sank back down into his chair. With his head bowed, hands dangling between his knees, he spoke without once looking at her.

“I laid down my mortal life for you, Jane.”

“Was it really for us?” she persisted, even as she felt like she kicked a dying dog rather than spoke with a living god. “Or was it for _him_?”

Only silence answered on his behalf, and even as she thought she ought to follow its example she could not help herself.

“You said yourself, he’s always been there. You can’t imagine your life without him. So maybe that’s why you did it. Sure, it would have saved us. But then you wouldn’t have to be the one left behind. The one left alone. You’d have your warrior’s death and then the rest of us would remain forever to sing your songs. Because without us, who would be left to do it?”

When he looked up, the shuttered coolness of his eyes told her she’d hit something very deep, but very vulnerable – it was like cracking ice over a boiling lake of heated secrets and lies. Without a word he leaned forward, hands closing hard about hers. She hated that. It wasn’t just the display of his power; she suspected now that Thor often did not realise his own strength, or that she might not be able to match it if she chose to resist.

Yet she did, pulling back. With her back pressed to the wall behind her bed, she glared at him and saw instead the memory of Loki and Thor on the rooftop. A kind of double betrayal, that; their kiss had been just inches from where Thor had drawn her Yggdrasil. As her hands fisted in the duvet, she thought that was probably why the bitterness fell from her lips when it did, as it did.

“And you didn’t have Mjölnir anymore. So, if you didn’t even want to live anyway, was it really so noble to throw away a life you’d already decided meant nothing?”

A second later she wished she could have taken it all back.

“Jane.” Thor stood before her, a primal force rendered in the form that was both so human and utterly, completely something else. The eyes snapped silver-blue, the crackling course of lightning crossing the heavens just before the accompanying rumble of his thunderous words. “ _What do you want from me_?”

“More than you can give,” she said, immediate, but this time she did not let bitterness taint her admission. She gave into her deepest instinct instead – and then, upon her knees, she leaned across the space between them, caught his face between her hands, and kissed him.

It could be nothing more than another mistake, but in the end it didn’t seem to matter. Because he kissed back. Thor ran on instinct, she’d known as much from the beginning – from his antics at the hospital to looking for a horse at a pet store to taking out an entire installation’s worth of specialist muscle just to get to his birthright.

_But I’ve got instincts of my own. And now I’m taking control._

Jane had never been in love before. There had been others before Thor, certainly, though not many. Pretty as she’d always been, in high school she’d been too much of a nerd to be worth the hassle of attention by the more worldly of males, and the less worldly tended to think her out of their league. In those days she’d never known how to take the lead herself. Then, later, any man she’d sought out often ended up overwhelmed by her mind, her passion, her need to _know_. That insatiable curiosity, when focused upon them instead of her work, had reduced many of them to their principal components. Don had been afraid of that.

 _I guess I just worry what happens when you’ve worked your way through what little mystery there is_ , he’d said, at the end. _You’re always looking for something new, Jane. Something you can pull apart to its most basic structure, pare down to atoms and the spaces in between them. But I’m not afraid of what you’ll find there – I’m afraid I already know._

That had been Thor’s most basic appeal to her, in the beginning – he’d proven a desperate mystery never to be solved, even as she realised he might solve the mystery of her own world. Pressing against his body now, her hands grasping for purchase in his hair and about his waist, some part of her knew she’d never solve it. _But maybe that is what love is_ , she thought, and kissed deeper. _Trying. Failing. Trying again_.

And she would try. One last time, if that was all she was going to get.

“I want this.” It seemed somehow important that the words be spoken aloud, whispered against the pulse of his throat. “I want this, Thor.”

“As you wish,” he murmured, something almost like a laugh in the words despite the divine intensity of it. Then, she was on her back and they were on the bed together. The heat of him seemed a furnace stoked to blazing heat. Jane had never felt anything like it before, found it to be something like lying beneath the sun and not allowing it to burn. Instead, she _demanded_ it burn, opening herself utterly to be consumed.

 _And like a phoenix, I will rise again_.

His hands on her felt like those of a questing pilgrim, for all he was the god and she the mortal. The adulation of growing faith, she thought in dizzied circles as he pushed up the t-shirt to lay one palm upon the padded cotton he found there. He didn’t really know the mechanics of mortal clothing, save for what he wore; her own hand moved to grant him understanding, arching her back just enough to release the catch. Then, his hand moved upon the soft flesh of one breast, the nipple hardening beneath the warmth of his skin.

Jane thought there ought to be more words. But there weren’t any, anymore. Instead she spoke with fingertips and lips, her body a sinuous twist beneath the strength of his while he slid her jeans down and away. Even in the haze of fresh-born desire she worked the buttons with ease, stripping off his shirt. She’d already seen him half-naked, of course; from the beginning he’d had no shame about his body. _No reason for it_ came the vague flitter of a thought, and then – _maybe I understand now why Loki always felt inadequate, next to this golden god_.

Then she banished all thought of the other. It was not his moment, not now. Even if she’d already lost the war, this battleground was hers. And she would conquer it knowing that glory came in many forms, and the resultant songs would always be hers to sing. Hers, and hers alone.

Her hands sought purchase on his waist, then moved to dig into his back. Hips jerked forward, wrought a gasp from her rounded lips; the strength of him pressed against her and for a moment she knew nothing else but the very root of him, the place that wrought life. Then his hands moved on her, those which brought death. But both were him. All were him.

_And now, for now, he is mine._

He drew back from her lips, bowed his head to press a reverent kiss to her nipple, wet and warm. A trail like a pilgrimage moved its way down her heaving chest, punctuated by a sly flick into the cradle of her bellybutton. Then, hands nudged thighs apart, and—

Jane _arched_. There had been so little time between them, in the great scheme of her life, the far longer span of his. But in that moment he _knew_ her without hesitation. The rasp of his beard against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs and the press of his hands felt like the fitted curves of a truth meant only for her, with one beneath her back and the other upon her hip. It was the bruised one, giving her a glimmer of bright pain amongst the scattered meteor shower of constant pleasure. It didn’t really seem to matter. Her hands fisted in the borrowed sheets of the trailer, mouth open in soundless plea.

The orgasm shook her, a charge loosed from deep within her body to dance in shrieking singing pleasure as it skipped from nerve-ending to nerve-ending, a benediction and a transcendent triumphant cry to the heavens. _I win_. But she did not say so; she could not, her hand in her mouth as she bit down hard. Thor already moved upward, pulling that hand free; his tongue moved over the broken skin, susurrus and soft. When he looked up, blood iron flecked his smile with crimson promise.

“Lady Jane,” he murmured, reverent. Beneath his pleasure her body trembled, as if she might come again from the sound of his voice alone.

He paused for only the briefest moment, and when he joined her again upon the bed his own jeans had gone. Naked, he moved with the same leonine grace – yet it seemed distilled now, perfected with only that golden skin moving over the taut lines of muscle and sinew beneath. Jane herself far removed, floating on the current of her own release. Or perhaps it was more that she’d fallen from a height – fallen from a broken bridge. A faint frown bisected her brow, but in the same moment he braced himself upon his arms and they were joined.

“ _Thor_.”

He pressed his lips to one breast, just above her stuttering heart. “Jane.”

After the pleasure he had already shown her once before, Jane felt should have been bled dry. Once should have been enough. And yet it wasn’t. _Maybe it won’t ever be_. Fresh sensation spilled through her, and she keened. She would not be a fallen hero left upon the field, tribute to her own memory. Thor would bring her back to life before ever allowing such a thing. _He knows better than anyone that there is always another battle to be fought – and the war is not yet won._

Jane gasped with the strength of him as he paused to gift his kisses to her lips, her eyes, her cheeks, her jaw, her neck. Then he gave up. Then he surrendered to her. The movement of hips and the thrust of his desire were almost too much, and she couldn’t hold back the cry of sudden agony, of deeper pleasure. It hurt. Exquisite and transmuting, it was very nearly terrifying. And she just didn’t care.

Closing her eyes, she crested upon the second wave. Still he moved, and with a deep sigh she clenched tight, felt the warmth of him spilled within her like an elixir of the gods. As his body began to slow, to still, she felt an odd thought lay across her mind, dreamy and distant as a half-heard song: _together, we will live forever_.

Reality had its way of creeping into even the most private of moments between souls. Jane curled tighter against his side, feeling that in the hazy afterglow the lines of their bodies were blurred, connecting them in ways that would otherwise never be possible. The small bed had never been made for this.

_But then, was the world ever made for him? Was **I**?_

“I’m not sorry,” she whispered against his skin; he tasted of salt, of fire-forged strength and electric energy. “No matter what happens, Thor – I’m not sorry for this.”

One hand paused in its lazy curve about one bare hip. Then he sighed, the sound rolling through his chest like the last waning thunder of a granddaddy storm. “Nor am I.”

Though Jane didn’t want to move, the vague thought of Darcy perhaps still outside brought with it a blooming flush across her cheeks. The only way to know was to look, though when Jane pushed up a flare of pain shot down her side. With a wince she twisted, then swallowed hard. Bruises – all in the shape of fingertips, splayed in patterns of possession. He’d marked her. But as he sat up, leaned over to reach for his own discarded shirt, she saw the tattoo-trace of her own nails in haphazard pattern across the golden expanse of his back. In that she knew that even though they were now two discrete bodies once more, in a way they would never part again.

“But there is something I am sorry for,” she said, sudden and strange. “I shouldn’t have said those things.”

“What’s said is said,” he said, pausing; when he looked to her from where he sat upon the edge of the bed, she supposed dimly that of all people, Thor knew how to let words go. “Jane, I do understand. I know you might think me blinded, but…I, of all people, know the both the currency and the value of Loki’s word. Even to me.” Another pause, the shirt hanging unclosed and forgotten on his shoulders. “ _Especially_ to me.”

“How much of this is his doing?” she whispered, and he sighed.

“I do not know.”

“You have to know. You have to find out.”

“I know this. Last night, my brother and I…talked.” He could not look at her, and Jane pulled her knees up beneath her chin even as he shook his head, palms pressed flat and hard against the hard muscle of his thighs. “I have never been skilled with words, Jane. I think I may have done more damage than good.”

_But Darcy says she saw you together last night. He hasn’t left you, whatever else is going on. Isn’t that what you wanted?_

She swallowed hard. In her line of work she could not be unfamiliar with questions she might not like the answers of. “What happened between you and your brother?”

The wince he gave might almost have been answer enough. “Jane. I…cannot truly say. It is a complicated matter.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” she replied, her sudden bitterness as automatic as it was unwanted. “I’m just a mortal. I could never understand the wills and whims of the gods. So, just forget it.”

She might have struck him with a fist rather than her words, from the beaten way he looked at her then. “Please don’t speak this way. It makes…” When he paused, it was as if he did not quite dare to say something aloud. Then, with a great sigh, it came. “It makes you sound like him.”

Her own smile was as brittle as a stalactite giving out under its own weight. “Thanks. I really needed that.”

“Jane, please.”

She owed him more than silence, and yet that was all she had left to give. He let fall the hand he had reached out to her, long before it had ever reached its intended resting place.

“Jane, my brother…” Whatever he intended to say overwhelmed him then, and even in that short pause he was lost, great shoulders sloping forward like an avalanche just waiting to take down the entire face of a mountain. Seeing him like that, Jane could not help her pity. Moving across the bed, slow and weary, she rested one hand upon him.

“Thor.”

Her whisper seemed enough to summon him to life, though he did not quite look at her. “At first, I thought he’d just gone mad,” he murmured, pained. “Then, I thought he was dead.” His face, when he raised it, held all the ragged anguish of Edvard Munch’s _The Scream_. “Now, it’s as if he is both. The Loki I knew is still dead, and the one I know now is so very, very mad.”

She’d thought that she understood something of his misery, after having seen him both with and without Loki. As he stared at her now she realised she never would really know its depth – and this time she did not answer only because she was physically unable to speak.

“But I want to help him,” he said, raw as a freshly-torn wound. “I want to _heal_ him, Jane. I just don’t know how.” His head drooped down again, voice muffled by the chin that had dropped nearly to his chest. “I don’t even know if I can.”

At first it took her a long moment to realise where he stared – at his hands, palms open and empty before him. Empty of Mjölnir. Not even that great hammer would be the slightest use in this situation. Then the strange sound hit her harder than even that. He was _crying_.

“Oh, Christ,” she whispered. Kneeling beside him on the bed, cold with the sweat of their love-making still drying upon her skin, she wrapped her arms around him and pushed her head close against the hollow between shoulder and throat. “Thor, I’m so very sorry.”

“This is all my fault.”

“No, it’s not.” She held him tighter, nails digging deep into the skin even beneath the flannel of his borrowed shirt. “We’re just doing what we can. That’s all we _can_ do.”

At first he only nodded. Then he drew back, and though he moved from her embrace he caught up her hands, held them gently between his own as he met her eyes. “Were you afraid of me?”

“What?” She blinked, then shook her head as she began to understand what he meant. “No. I asked for this. I invited it. I wanted it.”

“No, I do not mean this. I speak of yesterday.” Something squirmed in her stomach, and he seemed to feel it himself when he frowned. “Loki said something at the time, and then…afterwards. I didn’t really believe it, but when I saw how you looked at me, I…”

She remembered – bloodsoaked and honourbound, as they said, the berserker let out from behind the façade of easy affability. And in his hand, a weapon of death and life. “You are what you are,” she said, soft – and she smiled. “I can live with that – because I want to.”

“And what if it’s not enough?” His hands tightened over hers. “I…Jane, I fear this is not a battle I know how to win.”

It was not an admission he had often made, she could see – and the comfort he sought did not come easily to her. Jane herself did not truly know herself if either of them could ever know such a thing. She didn’t want to tell him so, didn’t even know how. Then, the knock left no room for her answer anyway.

“Jane?” She started, let Thor go as she twisted towards the door. One hand groped for a corner of the duvet, but to her immense relief it did not open. “Is…is everything all right?”

“I’m fine!” she called, praying to whatever gods were listening that she didn’t sound as panicked as she felt. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

When she turned back to Thor, she found that he had reached for his jeans. A shiver of regret moved just beneath her skin as she watched his body vanish, a distance between them once again made tangible. With a sigh she reached for her bra, for her underwear. Only when she wore those, only once she had pulled her t-shirt back on, did she find enough voice with which to speak.

“Thor?”

His fingers moved over the buttons in a clumsy fastidiousness that did not suit him at all. “Yes, Jane?”

“I don’t actually regret meeting you.” Saltwater pooled in bitter promise at the corners of her eyes even as she smiled still. “I don’t think I ever could.”

His eyes met hers at last then, weary in their gratitude. Still, he shook his head. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

“Maybe not,” she said, very slow, _but only because I don’t really know what I’m forgiving you for_. But she could not say as much aloud. Instead she reached for her own jeans, gave him a smile as soft as it was sad. “But I think you wound up with it anyway.” Once she had the jeans done up, her aching hip finding little comfort in the support of the firm denim, she ran a hand back through her hair and hoped she didn’t look like a complete slattern. “I’m just going to go and talk to Coulson. Then, maybe…we can talk about what to do about Loki.”

His head shot up, eyes wide. “You will help me?”

That hurt – the hope in his eyes, the way her heart tightened with the sure knowledge that there was no other way. “Yeah. I’ll help you.” _And maybe this is really what being a hero is all about – it’s not the rushing in to save the day that’s the hard part. No, the hard part is knowing how much it sucks to be the only one who can do it_. And she sighed. “We have to get him back to Asgard.”

Thor’s answering nod was simple, utterly without contradiction. Jane didn’t know where the sudden knowledge came from, or where it could even go – but in that moment she realised that the strongest sorcery was only wrought with the greatest sacrifice.

_No wonder Loki let go, when he fell from the rainbow bridge._

With a shudder Jane leaned forward, and kissed his brother one last time. “I’ll find a way, Thor. I promise you that.”

 

*****

 

Perhaps ten minutes later Jane gave the door a tentative push, then with one crutch for balance picked out an even more tentative path down the steps. At their foot Darcy craned her head around, strangely incurious for all the knowing Jane could see in her eyes.

“Hey,” she said, awkward. “Sorry—”

“Phil’s pretty tired, I sent him back to his trailer.” Pausing in her interruption, Darcy shut her iPad’s cover with definite intent. “He’ll still be awake if you want to talk to him now, though.”

“I…” While Darcy didn’t seem angry with her, exactly, Jane still felt a distinct chill in the air. Rubbing at her arms, she spoke with weary hope. “I think I need to go get something to eat first. Is there anything like that around here?”

“Yeah, sure, they have a set-up round the corner. Coffee’s pretty shit, but the pancakes can make you gain three point six pounds in two seconds flat.” Again, that calculated pause – then she just laid it out the way Jane had been expecting from the beginning. “What did you guys talk about?”

“A lot of things.” Her belly obligingly gurgled, and she gave into its convenient display. “Honestly, I just need to sit down, get something in my stomach before I pass out. I don’t even remember the last time I ate something.”

Levering herself upward, Darcy shrugged. Still, for a moment Jane thought she could see the slow burn of betrayal behind even the reflection caught on her glasses. “Sure. Hang on, my trailer’s right over there. I’ll just grab my coat.” Ducking her head, she muttered as she walked away, “It’s colder out here than I thought.”

As Jane watched her disappear her mind murmured an agreement even as her hands tightened about her arms. It didn’t contain the shiver whatsoever.

“Dr. Foster.”

Jane only repressed a shriek because her throat still felt raw from the day before. “I… _shit_.” Rubbing the space just over her heart, Jane tried to glare at her alleged assailant and found that despite her irritation, she just didn’t have the heart for it. “Agent Coulson, don’t _do_ that!”

“I apologise.” Weariness didn’t suit him at all, nor did the rumpled excuse for a suit he wore. She still caught a glimpse of his iron-rod backbone in the flash of his eyes when he said, pleasant and easy enough, “Can I talk to you?”

The tone of command beneath it was unmistakable. Jane didn’t have any real intention of denying him, but she frowned. “I…Darcy said you were in your trailer.”

“Sleep’s not a commodity I’m getting much of these days.” One hand passed over his forehead, back across his head. “You must be hungry – we should go get something.”

“Yeah, Darcy and I were going that way.” Turning slightly, she pointed in what she assumed was the direction Darcy had meant when she’d taken off. “She’ll be back in a second—”

“I realise that.” One hand flashed out, took her by the elbow. Even through the long sleeve of the cardigan she’d thrown over the t-shirt, the chill of it made her gasp. Then, when she turned around to glare at Coulson, her heart turned to ice.

“ _Loki_?”

Fear held her still just as much as did his grip, but something about the way his hand dug like a claw into her arm gave her the feeling that without contact this wouldn’t have worked. Not that it mattered, she thought dully; he had her now. “No point in screaming,” he said, almost conversational. “They won’t hear you.”

“What are you doing?”

“We need to have a talk, you and I.” The clever gaze stole upwards to her borrowed trailer, mobile lips held in a moue of distinct distaste. “But not here.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“I’m not giving you any choice,” he said, and then the world turned itself inside-out at his unspoken command.

Jane had seen Loki do as much with Thor several times. It did not mean she was at all prepared for the reality of it. _Instantaneous matter displacement_ , he’d said to Tony. And that was exactly what it felt like, for all she’d never imagined the sensation outside childhood nightmares about being transmitted by television signals. For a split second she knew what it meant to be torn apart, her fundamental atoms dancing upon the air to someone else’s tune – then, moments later, she came crashing back together. Then her stomach decided it didn’t like this development one little bit.

“I would say you will get used to it,” he said, dispassionate as she heaved into the sink abruptly found before her, “but then mortals rarely seem to.”

Jane couldn’t decide if it was kindness or simple fastidiousness that had led him to bring her to the bathroom first. It hardly seemed the time or the place to ask, though he strode away without a word a moment later. Alone, Jane pushed her head against the cool porcelain of the sink for a long moment. It helped her fevered brow, did nothing for either the pain of ankle and her hip or the aching bruises of Thor’s touch.

When she steadied herself, she ran the water for a bit before splashing it over her face and hands. Rinsing out her mouth brought a vague sense of loss, the taste of Thor seeming to fade even further though in reality it had already long since vanished.

Feeling somewhat restored to humanity Jane finally took in her surroundings: a hotel, and an expensive one. Wherever it was, it wasn’t Puente Antiguo, certainly; even before Loki the town hadn’t had anything like this. Still, she couldn’t make out anything useful through the frosted glass, and the window itself wouldn’t open enough to reveal more than a vague stretch of green and grey, the muffled sound of human traffic beyond.

“Well, at least it’s still Earth,” she muttered. Pushed her hair back, she then walked out with all the dignity she could muster when limping like a lame duckling.

A large room awaited her. It made up part of a suite, apparently; she found no sign of a bed, for which she was suddenly, obscenely grateful. But she could see upon one of the high-backed chairs something that turned her stomach: Thor’s armour, neatly stacked, a quiescent golem awaiting the command of its master.

A deeper shudder rocked through her when she at last looked away to the other creature who shared the room. Standing before the tall windows, he cast a lean shadow in leather and metal. _You gotta come dressed for the party_ , though she felt cloaked in smothering vulnerability in her jeans and cardigan. She stepped forward anyway, standing as tall as she could while her ankle screamed bloody murder.

“Well? What do you want?”

Loki angled himself around. Again she was struck by his charisma, the attractive bent of his expressive face; despite how unlike his brother he was, in that moment she remembered again his own great power and appeal. With a faint smirk he strode across the room to stand before her, and even with all she knew her first instinct was simple, primal: _kneel_.

“Are you satisfied now, Doctor?”

The demand wrapped about her vocal cords like a geis; she only just managed to give an answer that felt like her own will. “What do you mean?”

“I can smell him all over you.”

Loki’s sneer had an edge that bit deep into the vulnerable flesh of her heart; she drew a shuddering breath. She could not see the armour from here, but it floated just out of reach like an unanchored spirit searching for a home to haunt eternal. “You didn’t exactly give me a chance to shower before I came,” she said, cold. “Or after I came. Sorry.”

A thin curl of amusement lifted one side of his mouth. “Oh, you funny little mortal.”

It was madness, Jane thought – or perhaps she’d really been around Tony Stark too long, because her next words spilled out of her without care, and certainly without regret. “Did your brother taste the way you expected? Or did my mortal lips taint his divine flavour?” Then she gave a little grimace of her own, remembering that damned conversation after their first encounter with whatever passed for the local chapter of the Eosteric Order of the Old Ones and Cthulhu Cultists. Scorn for scorn, perhaps. “Then again, you already knew, didn’t you? You goddamned liar.”

Open palms rose, a kind of amused admission of helpless guilt. “Liesmith.”

“Have you _ever_ told the truth?” Anger made her bold, and even as she felt the malevolence of his growing anger around him like it could ever been seen as a tangible thing. “Honestly, now?”

“As I said before, _you funny little mortal_.” With a dismissive flick of one hand, he turned his attention to where two chairs had been arranged before one another by a quiescent fireplace. “I won’t make you stand, I can see it makes you uncomfortable. So, sit.”

“No.”

“There’s no need to be difficult.” Such a smile must have been sweet, once – perhaps upon the face of a child. On the face of the grown god, it had been twisted, tainted by memory and loss and even – perhaps mostly – by love. “I won’t take it as a surrender. Not when you’ve already got your weapons out this far.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and hoped it hid her shiver. “I’m fine where I am.”

“Dr. Foster,” he said, and actually rolled his eyes. “I wish to explain some things to you. While I do so, I must insist that you _listen_. I will not tolerate your collapsing from agony halfway through. Sit down before I make you.”

“You’re gonna have to make me.”

Too late she realised Loki would only take such words as invitation. His reaction was sudden, a sharp motion of one hand that manifested in her muscles as a force of deep compulsion. It propelled her backwards at great speed, and she couldn’t contain a shriek; the mechanics of it worked her ankle hard, the joint of her hip protesting wildly. Then she was down, her hands upon the arms. Only then did he release her with a dismissive wave of one long-fingered hand.

“You _bastard_.”

“You insisted.” Tranquil now, Loki moved to take his place across from her. With the rich surroundings crowding around them both in their wingback chairs, Jane felt oddly like she was a part of an episode of _Masterpiece Theatre._ Or perhaps, given the circumstances and her host, _Monsterpiece Theater_ might have been a more apt imagining. The latter impression wasn’t helped by the darkening undertone of his next words.

“I have a story to tell you.”

She leaned back as he leaned forward, though she really had nowhere to go. “Not really a story person. Sorry.”

“Considering the care you have for my brother, you seem very reticent when it comes to obtaining information that might aid him.”

“Mostly because I really doubt you’re going to give me anything useful.”

“A fair assumption, if inaccurate.” The slight smile he wore could not be in any way intended for her comfort. “If in some respects, at least”

Had Loki ever seen his brother cry, she wondered, even as a shudder worked through her. “You’re going to destroy him.”

“No.” He said it so simply, so easily, that Jane could do little else but stare. His smile had vanished, his eyes unfocused. “Admittedly, this is not how I imagined it would be, but then…” Those preternatural eyes snapped back to hers, hands spread wide. “If there is one thing I have learned it is that the future is many-faceted, and a text only uneasily perused. How can one read something that has not yet been written, after all?” Despite the pause, the question appeared rhetorical; she gave no answer and he went on undaunted. “Or perhaps the real question is: how can one read something that is one million futures and more all written upon the same page, over and under one another, so that all that remains is blackness, and potential, and then the singularity obscured at its very heart?”

She gritted her teeth behind her own smiling reply. “Go to hell.”

“I’ve been there, actually, and that’s likely where this all started,” he replied, her fury no more to him than a stiff breeze. “You hate me – or at least, you hate what I have done to Thor. I can understand that. I love him enough that I hate myself for the same thing, for all I hunger to hurt him all the harder.”

“You’re insane.”

“Perhaps.” Now he leaned back in his chair, and although he fought hard to keep his illusion of cool unconcern Jane could see the cracks beginning to show in the tension of his long muscles, the dim watchfulness of his eyes. Then he continued, and her heart seized in rhythm with his every word.

“Or perhaps it is simply that you have no idea how it is, knowing that you are the one destined to destroy everything you ever loved.”

“You…you’re talking about Ragnarök, aren’t you?” she whispered. And he laughed, the bastard.

“Yes. No.” He actually shrugged, the lean body curved against the lines of the expensive chair. “Even when it started, even at its worst, I did find some amusement in realising that all of this explains the origin of the stories you mortals have told of us for generations uncounted. That origin and then their fine nuances themselves were of course lost in translation, but then…these alternatives, these _legends_ you mortals know of us, they appear in fact to be mere realities not realised here.”

“Oh, so you’re not really the mother of an eight-legged horse then?”

Even as she cursed her runaway mouth – really, hanging around Tony Stark was going to get her killed one day – Loki smiled. “I never said that,” he said, and the soft sweet edge of his words felt like a honeyed blade. “But we are not talking of Sleipnir, of my was and will be and never-were children. We’re going far deeper into the past and possible never-tense.”

Jane passed a hand over her face, gave in to her own curiosity. “You saw all this during your fall from the Bifröst,” she said finally, and bit her lip. “When you met those creatures.”

“Yes.” When his eyes fixed upon her, she felt as if pinioned. “I met them much later, of course. I saw other things first.”

Her lips were dry, her voice crackling like autumn leaves. “Like what?”

“I saw it all. The end of everything.” He stared through her again, as if through a mirror darkly. “I saw forever and I saw never. I saw the worlds awakening and the destruction of universes. I felt time itself torn asunder and I knew its threads – a multitude of worlds.”

Her whisper was horror and disbelief woven in a double helix coded only for mutation and misery. “But…you could only have been gone for a matter of days, weeks. How could you see so _much_?”

“We’re discussing alternate realities and parallel universes and now you want to quibble over a little relative time dilation?”

She almost wanted to laugh, though more from despair than actual amusement. “How long did you fall for?”

“How to measure time in a place where it does not exist?” he asked, and though he spoke easily a haunted tilt to his eyes said far more of what he had known there. “It felt like forever.”

“It drove you mad.”

“Perhaps I already was.” At that, he did laugh; the sound cut like knives sharpened beyond the physical plane. “You think I was cruel to do what I did to my brother, all the way back in the beginning – bringing those Jotun to his confirmation ceremony. And yes, it was cruel to _them_ ; they were always destined to die at the hands of the Destroyer. But it was a test, do you see that? Thor did not have to react as he did, even as I goaded him into it. Or so I told myself then.” Again, his eyes took on that unfocused sheen that spoke of him going backward, sliding facefirst into the wellspring of his carefully ordered memories. “I remember the moment. And then I saw it reflected a thousand times over and more, in that place. My face, and his. _I just wanted him to realise his own stupidity_.” He shook his head, gave her a glare as contemptuous as it was miserable. “And even with all those possibilities, with an infinite number of alternate paths that could be taken, usually? He never does.”

A shiver crept in laughing glee across the surface of her skin, raising goosebumps in its wake. “Usually?”

“There are realities in which he uses his brain. They number far fewer than those in which he does not. But for all I might wish to, I cannot blame it on an inherent lack of wisdom. It is the current of the fates. Surely you must understand this….Dr. Foster.” His laugh felt pitched just a little too high despite the deep resonance of his voice, like that of a child fallen down a well. “The worlds will always instinctively proceed along the path of least resistance. That is where time finds its root, where the seedling unfurls into the earth around its broken casing. In that direction it will grow to find the light and sustenance and purpose it requires to live.”

“You’re saying that you saw the alternate timelines of that moment?” she whispered, but he had turned his face away, to the fire that did not burn. She thought she could still see its golden glow reflected in those too-green eyes.

“I blamed myself, in the beginning. I thought that if I had never brought those Jotun to the confirmation ceremony…

“But even in those other strange alternatives, the pull of fate is strong.” His crooked smile cut her deep, when he snapped his attention to her again. “In one such alternative, Thor became king when next Father fell into the Odinsleep. At first he did as he ought. He _tried_ to be the king he wanted to be, the king we needed. But then the day came when he inevitably took offense at some slight of the Jotnar. I cannot even recall what it was, so trivial it seemed to me even when I could see the weave of past, present, and future. The Loki in that reality advised him otherwise, of course. But by then he thought himself above my counsel.” His whole body stiffened, suddenly, fingers curved into claws upon the damask arms of his chair. “It happened in much the same way, in the end – but it was not merely the five of us this time. An entire Asgardian army bore witness to the revelation of my heritage.”

She didn’t want to pity him. But his face had gone the colour of bleached bone, and she supposed her scientific curiosity had always been destined to be the end of her. “What happened?”

“It splits, again. Fine and feathering, are the fronds of time.” His smile burned with all the bitterness of ever-frost. “Like a tree.”

“A world tree.”

“Yes.” In a peculiar way he almost sounded _proud_ of the path of her conjecture. Then, his entire body vibrated with the tightness of sudden misery. “But the path I remember best is the one where Thor takes Mjölnir and splits my skull like a ripe melon.”

He might as well have doused her with half-frozen water. “ _What_?”

“He supposed me a trick, an illusion, an imposter.” One hand rose, fell like a forgotten star from a heaven that no longer required its light. “Although when you consider the situation, he was not far from the truth. Such is the way of perfect poetic irony.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Why should you?” he said, his voice scarcely louder than her own whisper. “They call me the Liesmith, but what else did they expect of me when they lied to create me? I am not the Liesmith. I am the _Lie_. The Smith is the Allfather.

“As I said, I don’t expect you to understand. But I am of the Jotnar. Thor is Aesir. The Allfather told me he had hoped to use me to bring the realms together, and I suppose by making me brothers in arms with his first born heir this might have worked.” His laugh choked upon itself. “But it didn’t – and do you know why?”

She closed her eyes against the conjured image of Thor standing over his brother’s broken body. _What colour do you bleed, when you are blue?_ “Do I want to?”

“You do.” When she opened her eyes, she found pity in his – but she did not know who for. “There could never have been true peace in Asgard even with my presence in his own royal household – because he forgot to tell everyone else that that Jotunheim is not the mother of monsters, that it is not the place to spawn nightmares and ill will.” Though he’d been leaning forward with the force of his words he collapsed back again, wearied and dull like a war-blade used in one too many sorties. “I tricked my brother into his own banishment by using his hatred of the Jotuns. What do you suppose that says about the way he was raised?”

She felt quite sick.

“I’ll take that silence and your expression for comprehension, shall I?”

“But what about you?” she asked, and only with great difficulty. “Did he…did _you_ hate them too?”

“I never hated them, no. But I can’t claim anything noble in it. They were simply defeated foes, an ancient enemy hardly worth the trouble. They have magics, of course, and I found some interest in that.” His eyes gleamed, though with tears or with simple triumph she did not know. “But without their Casket, so much of their former glory had been stolen from them. I saw little to learn in that wasteland, and I was no warrior – therefore I also saw no potential glory in battling those already doomed to failure.”

“A lost race.”

“Damned and cursed, yes.” His hands rose, then fell like the inevitable tides. “And in the end, I am one of them.”

With nothing to say, Jane kept her silence. He did not appear to mind, his eyes again unfocused and distant.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t resent him so. I know as well as anyone the power of the grudges of an Aesir.” He tilted his head, eyes watchful and as inviting as a gravitational singularity. “They live far beyond the years of your mortal ken, as do the Jotuns. And the trick to peace is not understanding. It’s distance. It’s time. We have so much of the latter, and very little of the former. And one without the other is always doomed to failure.”

She wanted to protest, wanted to tease out something noble from the darkness that radiated from him like the unknowable interior of a black hole. His festering resentment simply would not allow for it.

“Oh, time can dull the memory of watching a bosom companion gutted by a blade of ice, though it will never erase it. And while children are born to the Aesir, they are raised with the fireside and banquet tales of those who were there. Those for whom the battle is no story, but bitter memory.” His hostility sped up again, angular momentum fed by the evidence he drew from his own skewed view of too many worlds. “Is it any wonder, then, that the Allfather realised his mistake in taking me?”

“You can’t know he ever thought it a mistake.”

“That’s why I killed him, you know.” Her heart seized; surely he could not have, not while Thor…and then Loki smiled, sarcastic and yet somehow strangely _hurt_ as he specified: “I speak of Laufey, not the Allfather. Odin lives. Laufey is long dead.”

Her throat felt so raw the words barely found sound enough to be born. “He was the king of the Frost Giants?”

“Indeed,” he said, and she remembered how all those days ago he’d spoken of patricide. “Not because I hated him. Understand, he meant nothing to me as a father. He surrendered any right to that title the moment he left me to die in that temple.” One hand rose, pushed back and through the dark hair so unlike his brother’s, and his sarcastic smile held almost as much bite as his word. “But that is all the Aesir will see when they look at me now, whether in the guise of their form or in that which was born to me. I am Laufey’s son.”

“And so you killed him.”

“And so I killed him,” he echoed, strangely pleasant despite the dark undertone of meaning. “For what little it matters now.” To her surprise he pushed to his feet, began to pace; like a lick of dark flame, he seemed to move across the floor without quite touching it. “Did you know, Dr. Foster, even when I was king, they did not see me as such? No-one had expected me to take the throne. I myself never even wanted it – I knew it was not made for one such as myself. I hated Thor, for putting me in the position that just mocked even further how unsuited I was to it. I cannot be king of Asgard, not as I am.

“Thor will be. And I am his shadow.” He paused in his erratic path, eyes fixed upon the floor. “He creates me. He _casts_ me.”

“What?”

“I wanted to blame Odin Allfather for this.” His head snapped up, and in the darkness of her eyes she began to fear he had dragged her past the event horizon of his seething, roiling madness. “But in the end, he was merely a catalyst. Thor and I are the important elements in this reaction.” And when he laughed, it was low and despairing. “I’ve _seen_ it, Dr. Foster. We always would have met, one way or another – as brothers, or as opposing kings of realms always at war. He and I, we will always be together…and I am destined to be his death. One way or another, I will kill him for what he has done.” His hands curled into fists; she could almost see the weight of his bleeding heart dripping out between his fingers. “And then, I will die for what I could not help but do.”

“Loki,” she whispered stomach twisted with the memory of the roof, of her bastion forever tainted by the memory they had created there together. “Loki, you don’t have to do this. You can be his brother. You don’t have to be his death. You can fight this.”

“Fight _fate_?”  The darkened eyes shone, such a concept nothing more than a pathological solution to his mind. “Ah, yes, I thought you would understand, Dr. Foster. I am destined to destroy all that I love. That is the way of the universe.”

“But it’s not what you want,” she whispered. And again, he laughed.

“I always wanted to be his equal. But of course I never could be. Even with the illusion of this entire life, I couldn’t be that. I am Jotnar, he is Aesir. We are not the same.

“But every action has its equal and opposite reaction.”

Insanity shimmered through him, twisted his very form, the gravitational lensing of reality curving about the ergosphere where unreality began.

“I am his opposite – and in that, I can be his equal.”

Yet despair hung heavy over them both. “That’s not how it works.”

“You’re a scientist, Dr. Foster. You know even when the universe doesn’t seem to follow your laws and your rules and your principles it’s not because it’s magic – it’s just that you don’t understand it yet.” His hand moved, and she winced against the flare of light contained in its curving palm. “Much like this, perhaps.”

“You found that in the void,” she said, a dark kind of understanding creeping up on her sanity, which slipped whenever she dared to stare at the cursed tesseract. He smiled deeper.

“That’s where all such things come from.” His half-seen fingers moved in gentle patterns across the kaleidoscope surface, the reflected light carving his drawn face in a mask of madness. “Potential. That is one fallacy I must give your Midgardian science – you think energy is always conserved, merely transformed. But things change. Matter can be destroyed.” For a moment his eyes closed, as if in blissful realisation. “And whenever it is, it must be remade.”

“You just contradicted yourself.”

“Did I? Did I _really_?” His eyes opened, wide and curious. “Why do you presume to lecture me on such things, Dr. Foster? You still have no idea what this is.”

“But I get the feeling you’re going to tell me.”

Again, he laughed. “Sometimes you remind me of myself. Of Sif. Even Thor himself, at odd moments. But in the end, Dr. Foster, you are your own person.”

“I don’t need your compliments.”

The lean shoulders shrugged, moved with the dark shadows in the dimness of his borrowed room as he took his seat again. “Do you believe I truly tendered any?”

 _Liesmith_ , her mind whispered, and Jane stared at him and wondered if everyone felt this tired when staring down what might be the barrel of their last few minutes on earth. “What is it, then?”

“It is power without purpose.” The odd affection of his regard echoed the way he raised his other hand, curving it over the impossibilities of the shape he held aloft. “Or at least, its power is very diminished without appropriate purpose.”

“Seemed powerful enough to me.”

“Yes, it would, to a mortal – and even to the Elders, who wished to use it when they perceived what I had found. But it had already decided to respond to me.”

 _Bastard thing,_ she thought, automatic, and for a terrible moment she wanted to give into her growing hysteria and just laugh until she cried. “To you?”

“You remember I spoke of the Casket,” he said, again with that didactic tone that made her wonder what he’d truly been like before his fall. “The Casket masks its impossibilities. But it also allows it to be touched by one not its true master. They’re very finicky, I understand.”

And the more she dared look at it, the more her skin crawled.

“Of course, it can only fool to a certain degree – even when bound, the entity within the Casket will only respond to one of Jotun blood. Even then, it will rarely do so. Usually only those of the royal line can bend its will to their own.” Irony and deep dark misery coloured his eyes black when he looked at her then. “The Allfather himself could coax no response.”

“You’re talking like it’s alive.”

“It has a consciousness, but not like you would understand. Even then, it takes time to recognise itself, to form its own parameters of self-awareness.” Again his hand lifted, the damned polytope held so casually upon his own hand; both seemed to shimmer in and out of reality the more she dared to look. “The tesseract responds to my will, but it cannot dominate it. I will not be its prisoner.”

Jane thought she didn’t really want to know, but of course her traitorous mouth was all she had left to move. “What?”

“It’s not a one-way relationship. You can bind the tesseract and all its power to your will – but only if you surrender to it. Which I have no intention of doing.”

 _The Loki I knew is still dead, and the one I know now is so very, very mad_. Thor’s despair echoed through the corridors of her mind like a klaxon cry of warning, and yet there was nowhere left to run. “Well, why would you?” she asked, though she already know.

“The power. The potential. Even now, after the fall, I can still see the threads of a million other realities and more. But I can’t cross them.” His gleaming eyes turned upon her. “The tesseract can.”

“You…want to go to another reality?”

“No.” Realisation struck her hard, but when she tried to stand she found his will kept her seated, a lamb to the slaughter as he rose again from his own chair. “I am very sorry. You mustn’t feel this is a personal attack. In fact I am surprised to find that I’ve become reasonably fond of you.” He even sighed, then. “I did mean what I said.”

“You’ve said a lot of things, Loki. Most of it bullshit.”

“You have the makings of a sorcerer in you,” he replied as if she’d never spoken, taking no offense. “Curiosity. Tenacity. Sheer force of will.” His gaze rested upon her, fond in a way that was not at all comfortable; it reminded her of lab rats and test mazes and pending vivisection. “Perhaps in this other world you can learn it for yourself,” he mused, and she bit her lip so hard she tasted iron.

“Yeah, and then I’ll come back here and _kick your ass_ for this.”

“It would be your prerogative, of course.” The light shrug rolled her threat from his back like water from a duck’s oiled feathers, for all he acknowledged her right to it. “They call me feminine, in what I do, but in the end women know the rules of engagement perhaps even better than do their men.”

He paused then, angled towards her. When he took the first step forward, she stiffened. “Get away from me.”

He merely blinked. “I simply need him more than you do.” Another step closer. “With your sacrifice, Jane, I truly believe that I can undo the paths of fate – that I can rewrite them. And isn’t that what you want? Don’t you _need_ my brother to be happy?”

“This is a mistake.”

When he shook his head, it was sorrowing and simple. “I can make him happy.” Then his smile faded. “Even if there is about to be a dreadful accident.”

“ _Get away from me!_ ”

“Please believe me, I’ve chosen a place for you with great care – a place where Jane Foster is already lost and gone. You can take her place, and then you may have Thor in this other world with no fear that my counterpart will ever try to take him from you. The Loki there will never change – he is beyond redemption. He is too far gone on the path already.” He might have been speaking of the weather, save for the deepest flicker of an uneasy storm roiling far behind his eyes. “Maybe you could even kill him, if it would make you feel better. I couldn’t blame you for that. I wouldn’t even mind.”

She might have thrown up, had there been anything left in her stomach. “Thor will never believe this was an accident.”

“He’ll have to,” Loki said, almost gentle as she struggled harder. “He won’t be able to live with himself otherwise.” He stood then, elegant shadow even without his sun to cast him. With his hands held at the small of his back, he faced her with cool apology, an executioner who took pride if not necessarily pleasure in his competence. “Don’t worry, Dr. Foster. Time marches ever onward. And in time, everyone you love here will be happy, I will see to that.” The smile widened, just a little. “Including Dr. Selvig.”

Her attention snapped back from the teasing hope of the distant door. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Dr. Selvig. I will no longer require his…unwitting aid, as my thrall.” Bile rose in her throat even as his eyes widened in surprised innocence. “You didn’t really think he helped put the tesseract within my reach without my influence, did you? …and to think, I believed you mortals to have such faith in love and friendship.”

Guilt and grief took a backseat to fury – and yet, under his continued influence, she could not move enough to let it loose. “You bastard.”

“Consider it a gift, that I will let him go now.” He even tried for pity then, a kind of disappointed compassion that idiotically made her think of a parent trying to talk a reticent child into eating their vegetables. “You will be happy, too, in the place I have chosen so carefully for you. If you’d only just _try_.”

“Loki.” Gritting her teeth, she pushed forward, got nothing more than the barest inch of movement. “ _No_.”

Any surprise he’d felt vanished in the face of a sudden anger that held her motionless. He stalked close, leaned over her chair. “The Allfather made me a Prince of the Aesir,” he told her, dark and low with searching eyes green upon her own, “but only Thor can truly make me a king.” He smiled, then. “And only your sacrifice can be my escape.”

Her lips were numb, so close to him; for all he wore the mask of his Asgardian upbringing, the Jotun shimmered dangerously close to his votatile surface. “Don’t do this.” A pause, and then, even as she hated herself for it, “ _Please_.”

“Ah, but that truly is the problem with fate,” he said, regret colouring everything in shades of black and green as he went to one knee before her, an obscene parody of a knight before his lady love. “What’s done? Is always and forever already done.”

So sudden, so quick it happened – the tesseract was thrust into her hands, and it felt like nothing else she had ever known, had ever expected. A white heat that didn’t burn, it was neither hot, nor cold. For that, she felt only relief. For that, she almost relaxed.

_Nothing’s happening._

Then, all turned to white ash and faded clean away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, writing this fic from Jane's POV has been a massively interesting experience for me, but it obviously has its limitations. While writing I do tend to have a fairly decent idea of what's going on outside her sphere of immediate understanding, mind you. I mean, taking this chapter -- I had flashes of moments like Tony trying to get Darcy, Coulson, and a bunch of random SHIELD agents to LARP _Oregon Trail_ with him, or Thor and Tony having a drinking competition that would put frat boys in comas after ten minutes of play, but by and large I haven't _written_ these things. They kind of just exist on the edges of my writing mind, more half-formed images than words.
> 
> However, between this chapter and the last, there is obviously a scene that Jane could not have seen that I had to understand in order to work with the fallout of it. You can likely guess what that scene was. And so, between writing the seventh and eighth chapters I did write said scene. It's about four thousand words, in the end. I know some people probably don't need to see it, but I do wonder if anyone else is interested. If you are, let me know; probably what I can do is add it as a supplementary chapter along with some other notes once I get around to finishing and posting the next and last chapter. As I said, it was written mostly for my own benefit, but if anyone's interested words were written to be shared. <3


	9. Death Is The Road To Awe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jane has A Very Interesting Adventure, much television is watched, and the tesseract starts leaning rather heavily on the fourth wall. But that’s okay. It’s a hypothetical hypercube in four dimensions – that’s just how it rolls.
> 
> Also: the ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, I suppose I ought to apologise for how long this took -- but in the end it's a very long chapter. It likely ought to have been split in two, but here it is at last. We can also blame real life, and then tumblr. Because I discovered tumblr the other day and now suddenly my life as I know it is over.
> 
> But yes. This is the end. Thank you so much to everyone who has read this far, it's been an absolutely wonderful experience. I can but hope that this does justice to whatever you hoped it might be. <3

When she opened her eyes, she heard voices. A collective low hum, it caressed the ragged edges of her mind with a touch both familiar and rich. Yet there was an odd quality to it, like the sound of a radio in a distant room.

When she pushed into a seated position Jane moved her fingers across the ground beneath them. It felt smooth and featureless, and when she looked down she saw nothing but bright blinding light. She kept blinking, trying to clear her vision. It made no difference. All that remained beneath her was white. Just white. Endless and featureless and utterly without sense or depth, she did not sit in a dome, or a square room. It was white, and nothing more. She didn’t even quite understand what she was resting on. A moment later she decided not to think too hard on that; she had the horrible feeling that whatever passed for ground here supported her weight only because instinct told her it should.

But despite the fact it had no discernible mass, had no parameters that she could ever hope to even observe let alone measure, the whiteness felt alive. It _pulsed_ , silent and watchful; it felt to be coming closer, like a mist or a smothering fog just waiting to catch her up in tendrils of creeping crawling chaos. Jane shuddered and wrapped her own arms around her, as if so simple an action could ever hope to ward off such dire madness.

 But those voices remained in the distance, a low and laughing anchor. Despite the deep wrongness of the whiteness, she heard nothing so strange in their distant tone, save perhaps for the odd muffling of the sound itself. She clung to that even as her nails dragged along the not-ground, seeking purchase. Something like vertigo tilted the world sideways as she pushed to her feet, for all it was a world with no up nor down. Yet that wasn’t the strangest thing – her hip didn’t protest the movement, her ankle took her weight. And yet her whole body ached, as if she’d been pressed through a meatgrinder.

Still, she suspected nothing hurt so much as her heart.

“Hello?” Her voice didn’t echo; rather, it seemed to be swallowed whole by the growing thickness of whatever passed for air in this place. “ _Guys_?”

“We’re in here!” Tony’s voice cut through the heaviness with clear purpose; tears stung her eyes at the clarion call of it. “God, what’s taking you so long, anyway?”

“I…” She swallowed hard, raised her own voice higher. “…taking me so long?”

“You said you were just getting popcorn!”

“I…” Her hands tightened, and she felt for the first time something pressed between their palms: a huge carton, warm and fragrant with salt and butter. It had not been there a mere moment ago. She held tighter, hands beginning to tremble. Some still spilled out, bounced upon the smooth white of a floor that might not even exist. “…I’ve got it!”

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

It opened then, the door. Like the popcorn Jane could have sworn it had only just worked itself into being, but in much the same way she chose not to think of gravity she did not dwell overlong on where it had come from. As if in a dream she moved towards the place where a rectangle of colour had been cut into the white. It made her think vaguely of the first time she’d seen _The Matrix_ ; even though she was by birth alone a science nerd of the highest magnitude she’d never seen it until Darcy had made her and Erik sit down with her one quiet Saturday night. _I can’t believe you’ve never seen this, either of you!_ she’d scolded. _Christ, I know you physics types practically live in pop culture caves some days, but this is just stupid._

They’d had a box of popcorn then, too.

“Jane!” Tony’s voice came again, rich with laughter. “Couldn’t hurry it up, could you? Thor’s got that look in his eye again – you know, the one that means I’m going to have to hold him back from eating the cushions again?”

Jane took a breath, steeled her spine, and stepped over the threshold. At once the air felt lighter, felt less _alive_. Still, though not a one of them were anywhere near the door it swung closed in her wake. Startled, she blinked hard at her surroundings, but for the first few moments she couldn’t see a thing beyond the darkness of this new space. Then she realised it was an actual room, as compared to the white nothing beyond it: a tiny bastion of sanity in the bright pulsating madness beyond.

_I’m inside the tesseract. I’m inside a room inside the tesseract inside my own mind._

But no-one else seemed interested in either the logistics or the fallacies of this impossible world. They sprawled instead in various states of relaxation across a set up of several couches. The only real light in this room came from the large television screen upon the otherwise featureless wall before them. Jane shuffled forward, popcorn clutched to her chest like a shield.

Darcy and Tony sat together on the central couch. She reclined against one arm with her feet in Tony’s lap; he balanced one of his tablets on her striped socks with alarming disregard for its cost, apparently splitting his attention between screens with ease. Darcy, for her part, had the earbud of her iPod in one ear. The device itself was in the hand of the one of the man seated in the chair just beside her, his brow furrowed.

“I’ve never heard of any of these people,” Coulson muttered, the other earbud revealed to be in his possession. “And I’m not sure this is actually _music_ that I’m listening to anyway.”

“I know you’re like, old enough to be my _dad_ , but you don’t have to _sound_ like him.”

When Coulson glanced up, he looked almost wounded. “I…what? How old do you think I actually _am_?”

“God, I hope she doesn’t get started with the personal questions on me,” Tony muttered, and she kicked her foot up just enough to tilt his screen crazily to one side. He squeezed one toe, and she squealed. Coulson closed his eyes, turned his face to the sky for guidance.

“ _Children_ ,” he warned, and then started scrolling the screen again. “Don’t you at least have some Depeche Mode on here or something? I thought the hipster kids liked Depeche Mode.”

The look Tony gave him could have run a small aluminium smelter for three weeks, for all the deep power of its shock. “ _You_ like Depeche Mode?”

He didn’t look up, but Coulson raised one hand and pointed a finger in his direction with powerful promise. “Mention this to Barton and you’re a dead man, Stark.”

“That…might actually be worth it.”

“What is so wrong with this Depeche Mode creature?”

Tony said something in swift reply, most likely smart-arsed and off the cuff, but Jane did not hear it over the roaring in her ears. The other couch held the person who had spoken –Thor, his large body reclined in easy repose at its very centre. And then, a thin form pressed into the small space between armrest and his side—

“Loki,” she whispered, still and yet somehow shivering. Yet he showed no comprehension, no knowledge of what had brought her to this place. Instead he looked up at her with easy disdain, words cool and charmless.

“What do _you_ want?”

“What have you done?”

This time his eyes held a deep strangeness, staring at her like she might have truly gone mad. “This wasn’t my idea,” he said, sharp, and jerked a thumb sideways. “Blame _her_.”

Darcy was at the receiving end of that gesture, and she answered it with a tongue poked out as far as she could manage. It still made no sense. “No…she couldn’t have, you are the one…”

Upon the television screen, the quiet murmur of commercials finally came to an end. The theme music blasted on, bright and cheerful; Jane started, and then winced “Oh god, what _is_ that?”

“ _Neighbours_ ,” Darcy said, supremely unconcerned as she finished tearing the wrapper off a lollipop. “Great show, you know.”

Thor craned his head around, sang along in a voice alarmingly off-key. “Everybody needs good neighbours!”

Jane’s next words were a lie, though the sentiment wasn’t entirely. “I don’t even want to know.”

“Well, we _were_ watching _The Almighty Johnsons_ ,” Darcy said around the bulb of her candy, “but _Mister Picky_ here was ruining it for everyone.”

“I am not a cat,” he said sharply, folding his hands over his narrow chest and sulking back into the warmth of both couch and his brother’s considerable bulk. “Neither am I a _lawyer_.”

Darcy gave him a contemplative look. “Why can’t you be both?”

“If you really were a contract lawyer like that other Loki, I’d hire you,” Tony said gamely, and then paused over what Jane was beginning to think was a particularly long session of _Angry Birds_. “Well, if I thought you were on my side, anyway. Talk about your literal fucking genies.”

“Gentlemen,” Coulson said, still scowling at the iPod and its lack of decent music, “there is to be no _fucking_ today. Not on my watch, not in here. Because then _I’ll_ have to watch. And then I’ll have to kill you.”

“Phil, you need to get out more.”

“I think you need to get back into your closet.”

“Killjoy,” Tony said cheerfully, and let loose another screaming bird. With a sigh of her own Jane drifted forward. Given she felt sure her knees were on the verge of giving out on her, she at last took a seat in the sole remaining armchair. The warmth of the popcorn was a soothing weight between her hands, though the smell was making her nauseous.

“Jane, are you feeling unwell?” Thor rose, sudden and curious. Still, she had to suspect ulterior motives because as soon as he’d come and leant against the side of her chair, one large hand dipped into the box. In his enthusiasm to get to the good stuff in the middle popcorn exploded everywhere; Darcy shrieked, turned to glare as she started picking it out of her hair.

“How did you even _get_ that all the way over here?”

Loki flicked a stray kernel off his own knee, though Jane could feel his eyes fixed on her. “There is no end to my brother’s talents.”

Thor offered nothing in his own defence, just grinned broadly at his brother around what appeared to be his third gobful of buttery goodness. Jane sighed, pushed the box at his hands. “You can have it, Thor, I’m not hungry.”

“Aw, don’t give it to _him_! The rest of us are never going to get any now!”

“Are you implying I do not know how to share, Tony Stark?”

“I’m saying that if I’m going to make you, I need to be suited up.”

“God, it’s like being in charge of a special school on a field trip,” Coulson muttered, and raised his voice if not his attention from the iPod. “Did none of you learn how to share in kindergarten?”

Darcy blinked. “My parents were in a hippy commune. I didn’t go to public school until the sixth grade.”

“Phil, I graduated MIT at seventeen. I kind of skipped a few grades here and there, you know? Certain things got left by the wayside…like sharing crayons and playing well with the other children.”

The look Thor turned on Loki was bewildered – and half-wounded, perhaps at the thought of being left out. “Do you know this _kindergarten_ the Son of Coul speaks of?”

When Loki bothered to reply he didn’t even look at his brother; the clever green eyes remained on Tony alone. “Thor’s ability to share is dependent entirely upon the capacity of his stomach at any given juncture. I believe at this point it’s safe to assume you will not be getting any popcorn today.”

Thor now appeared mortally wounded. “But I must take any and all opportunity to enjoy your Midgardian food! Surely you understand?”

Closing his eyes, Coulson appeared to count to ten in at least three different languages. He then opened them again only as he turned to Jane. “Dr. Foster. I do believe you’re our only hope.”

A strange frisson made its way along her spine. She could not look away from him – but it was not quite fear that moved her thoughts now. _And in time, everyone you love here will be happy._ Loki’s words twisted through her mind, clear and calculating. He had said nothing to suggest they would share her fate in another world.

“And even if that’s the way he wanted it,” she whispered, “why would he be here with Thor? With _me_?”

Coulson frowned. “I think I may need to take back what I just said,” he said, quite delicately; she supposed he was just used to apparently-sane people suddenly flipping their shit within ten feet of him. “Can we at least change the channel, please? I can only cope with that accent for maybe ten minutes at a time.”

“It makes him realise his will never be that sexy,” Tony confided, reaching for the remote. Then, he frowned. “Hey, who’s got the remote?”

Darcy rolled her eyes at his accusing stare. “You took it off me when I wouldn’t stop replaying the bit of _The Almighty Johnsons_ where Thor and Odin were throwing the hammer round the farm, remember?”

“It was not a very big hammer,” Thor said, brow furrowed. “I am not sure this television show understood the true nature of Asgard and her children.”

“Come on, Thor – it’s not the size of the hammer, it’s how you use it.”

“Was that a confession, Tony?” Darcy said, waggling her eyebrows; Thor shook his head, doggedly keeping his attention reserved upon the earlier thread of their conversation.

“And Mjölnir was not made for killing rabbits. Or goats.”

“So we’re not having goat stew for dinner tonight?”

“Do you see any goats in here?”

It seemed Coulson was on the verge of a double face-palm that would make even Jean-Luc Picard proud. “I feel like I’m trapped with a herd of kids, does that count?”

Holding her own silence in amongst the squabbling, Jane pulled her knees up under her chin at stared at the criss-cross pattern of the dull carpet below her feet. The simple truth was that she had no idea what she was supposed to be doing, but couldn’t see where else she had to go. All she had to run with was the fact that inside this room, the centre of their attention seemed to be whatever they were watching on the television screen. With a sigh she looked up, rejoined their insanity.

“So… _what_ were you guys watching, again?”

Tony snorted from where he crawled along the floor. A moment later he pushed Loki’s feet out of the way to look under the couch, then canted his head to give her an apologetic look. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

Loki jerked his legs away from Tony’s touch. “I know _I_ didn’t,” he snapped. “But did anyone listen to _me_?”

“But even you must admit, brother, that for all you might not dress in red suits and walk about with a flame-throwing device, their Bragi is not far from our Bragi.”

The look Loki gave his brother could have melted steel. “Poets often spend their time wandering about spouting nonsense in order to charm the ladies onto their backs upon roadsides and in haystacks. There’s nothing particularly groundbreaking about such a characterisation.”

Almost immediately Tony perked up, sitting back on his heels. “Hey, can I meet your Bragi? We could _totally_ swap tips on how to lay bitches!”

Even as Darcy shrieked with laughter some sort of argument immediately erupted between demi-god and demi-arsehole. Jane let it wash over her like a series of waves, focusing again on the tangled snarl of her own thoughts. It would be better to think about what had happened to her and start from there, she thought. And the immediate conclusion she came to was both as simple as it was terrifying.

She was trapped inside the tesseract. The thought of the great whiteness beyond the walls made her shudder. Thankfully there were no windows in this room, just the door. The thought of going out there again twisted her stomach, and she decided that scientific method or no, she was just going to run with the hypothesis that she was indeed within the ever-changing reality of the tesseract.

Still, even as she remained still, her stomach only roiled all the more. Closing her eyes, she let the sound of the room roll around her: a haven, this room. Not that she could understand how that had come to be, either. What troubled her more was the thought that it could only be temporary. Everything in her whispered that this could not have been what Loki had intended, considering he’d spoken of a reality where her counterpart was long dead, and his own already mad beyond salvation.

“So it’s not over yet,” she whispered, and Coulson groaned his agreement.

“And it won’t _be_ over until someone finds the remote and changes the damn channel.” Kicking out one foot, he poked Tony hard enough in the shoulder to push him right over. “Stark, can’t you just jerry-rig your tablet? I thought you were supposed to have a degree in genius engineering and general bullshit.”

Even as Tony climbed to his feet, rubbing his shoulder and glaring at Coulson, Darcy furrowed her brow. “Hey, I know this is probably old school and I’m way too young to be in the class, but why don’t we just change it by hand?”

“I don’t see you getting off the couch to do it.”

She spread her hands in easy vulnerability. “Damsel in distress, here. Thought you were supposed to save me.”

Tony looked like he had a few choice words for that, but the moment he leaned over to check the front of the television’s outer frame they were all lost in the tide of his sudden surprise. “…huh. There’s no way to change it from here.”

“Who the hell makes a television with no way to change the channel?”

“There _is_ a way,” Tony snapped back. “I just don’t know where the damn remote is.”

“It’s a metaphor,” Jane whispered.

“No, it’s a little black rectangle with buttons on it. Buttons all the colours of the rainbow, even.” Hands on hips now, Tony swung around to glare at the most likely culprit. “Loki, what did you do with the remote?”

He blinked. “I haven’t seen it.”

“Liar.”

True as that probably was, Loki’s anger seemed almost out of proportion when he shouted: “You wouldn’t let me watch what I wanted even if I did have it!”

“I think you all need to watch a couple episodes of Barney,” Coulson remarked, quite exasperated – it made him sound alarmingly like somebody’s underpaid nanny. “A little dose of caring and sharing, everybody?”

Tony ignored him – or at least, the words; he appeared to take note of the sentiment when he extended his tablet towards Loki. “Oh, for…look, use this, you can watch whatever the hell you want, if you’ll just shut up.”

“But I want to watch that television.” For all his anger of only a moment ago, now he almost looked like he was going to cry. “Why do I have to watch a different one?”

Tony himself seemed utterly confused by Loki’s whiplash moods. A moment later, Thor gave a triumphant whoop; they all looked around to see him brandishing something small above his head like it was Mjölnir itself. “I have located the black box!”

Coulson groaned. “We’re all doomed.”

With all the enthusiasm of a three year old given a box of candy, Thor pivoted to face the television and poked the remote with one broad finger. The soap opera vanished, and for a long moment a black screen remained. Tony opened his mouth to complain when a moment later all was replaced by a crisp picture that somehow felt ill-suited to the screen. Jane at first could not understand why.

Then, she realised. It felt too real. It felt like more than a story. It felt like a _memory_.

“Hey, what’s this?”

The flickering light reflected in Loki’s eyes, drowning all observable emotion. “Asgard.”

“Whoa,” Darcy said, leaning close in the manner of another three year old child watching Dora do her exploring gig. “It’s like someone totally blinged up ancient Greece.”

One of Tony’s eyebrows arched high in dangerous consideration. “Pimp my civilisation?”

“I’d watch that.”

Jane stared. Only she, Coulson, and Loki remained silent while Thor was already enthusiastically pointing out landmarks and points of interest. For all the pictures tugged at her, curiosity both piqued and primed, she could not bring herself to speak aloud. Not with Loki staring at the screen as if mesmerised by its images, caught in a maelstrom of memory and something dangerously close to madness. Still Thor’s great hand waved in widening arcs of fervour, remote tucked between its fingers. It was really entirely inevitable that he would eventually push the wrong button.

“ _Thor_!” Darcy shrieked, aggrieved. “Turn it back!”

But he didn’t. Instead he stared at the snowstorm upon the screen, still and somehow shocked. Following his gaze, Darcy squinted, and then snorted. “Fucking static. Can’t see a damn thing.”

“No.” Loki’s quiet voice cut through the air like a glacier moving at the speed of light. “That is Jotunheim.”

Her brow furrowed as she twisted her mouth in dubious fashion around the unfamiliar syllables. “… _yo-yo-time_?”

“The land of the frost giants.” His thin line of his stiff shoulders could have cut through stone. “Thor, change the channel.”

He frowned at the small device in his too large hand. “I’m not sure I know how.”

“ _You did this, now fix it_!”

“Whoa, calm it down, buddy.” Tony snatched the remote from Thor’s limp grasp, hit a button. The channels flickered, changed to a tall slender man in black, speaking of improbabilities and implausibilities and the basic lack of impossibilities in the world. Jane frowned, then turned away to find Coulson staring at her. The sudden light in his eyes made her shiver, as if someone had just walked over her grave.

“I…Agent Coulson? Are you all right?”

His eyes flickered to the screen, and then returned to hers. “Logical fallacies.”

This time the shiver down her spine felt like a bolt of lightning. “ _What_?”

“You’re the scientist here,” he said, quiet. “But still…”

The channel had changed again; Jane caught the brief sight of a dozen women in feathers and white before she had to turn away from the sound of the others squabbling like ducks over bread. A headache was growing, and it was not helped by the plinky percussion of classical music on the screen. Tchaikovsky, she knew. When she closed her eyes it did nothing to help the sudden dizziness.

“It’s the black swan theory.”

Her eyes snapped open. “What?”

“Black swans,” he repeated, as if that would make anything even remotely approaching sense. She swallowed hard.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Coulson’s eyes flicked over the other four for a moment, then shrugged. “It’s a theory, based on three criteria. It’s about a catastrophic event…so, it obviously must be a surprise, and it has to have far-reaching impact and consequences.” When he looked back, his eyebrow was raised. “But in retrospect it has to make sense.”

“I…don’t understand.”

“The relevant data hadn’t been accounted for in the initial analysis.” He shrugged. “But it was always there. That’s what makes it seem like it was possible later. Inevitable, even.”

“Agent Coulson, what—”

The argument exploded into their conversation, Darcy’s voice loud and incendiary. “No! Not _Game of Thrones_!” she shrieked, jerking a thumb at Tony. “He’ll just bitch about Tyrion being his favourite character. Because we all know he can’t love a Lannister, he’s a _Stark_.”

Tony folded his arms over his chest, though Jane still caught the faintest glow of his arc reactor. “I don’t have to take this from you. I have hundreds of people dying to abuse me.”

“Yeah, and I’m front of the queue!”

Thor tried for soothing, though if everyone was honest the rumble and volume of his voice weren’t really that conducive to such an effect. “Well, if we are not to watch Tony’s suggestion, then what shall we watch instead?”

Darcy scrunched up her nose. “We could watch _The Fountain_.”

“What’s that about?” Thor asked brightly, even as Tony scowled. Darcy quite purposefully ignored him.

“It has a tree in it.”

“Lots of movies have trees.”

“Not like this one,” she said, and gave a thoughtful nod. “It makes me think of Iggy.”

“Yggdrasil?” His brow furrowed, even as Loki stiffened. “In what way does it remind you of Yggdrasil?”

“It’s about the tree of life.” Her voice took on a reverent hush, careful and curious. “The one thing that connects us all, through time and space and life and death and love and hate.”

Jane shivered, turned back to Coulson. He raised an eyebrow again. “Do you understand, now?”

“I don’t think so.”

He nodded, as if he’d expected as much. “The point of the black swan theory is to take something that looked to have been impossible and make it plausible.”

“ _Why_?”

“To rationalise the world.” And given his smart suit, the sharp lines of perfectly ironed creases and the starched whiteness of his collar, Jane began to realise why he was the one saying these things. “To make things make _sense_. Because we all suffer for a reason, don’t we?”

“What is this place?” she whispered, and he smiled.

“It’s what you make of it, Jane.”

Slowly she nodded, a warmth spreading through her chest even as she felt a strange and sudden sense of loss. “None of you are really here. It’s just me…me, and my projections of all of you.” Then, she actually laughed. “Well, Agent Coulson, how does it feel? You totally get to be my voice of reason.”

His faint smile deepened. “Considering the competition, I’m not going to assume it to be much of a victory.”

In amongst the argument Loki stood up, sudden and dismissive. His eyes had moved to the door. “I’m not interested in this anymore.”

The room trembled alarmingly, and Jane turned sharply to follow Loki’s blazing glare. Gleaming light moved behind the door, creeping through the space between hinge and frame. She swallowed hard, looked to Coulson. His nod was simple.

“I believe your time is running out.”

“But what can I do?” Her hands tightened, remembering the cool sensation of its changing faces against her skin. “The tesseract responds to what Loki wants, doesn’t it?”

“Yet he said himself he couldn’t give himself over to it fully,” Coulson observed.

“He could only have complete control if he in turn gave it control over him,” Jane said, her eyes upon him still. Loki actually _sulked_ , pretending to ignore the other three where they bent over the remote. But she could sense the hunger in him. She could feel it, even, beating against the back of her mind like a migraine just waiting to explode in pain and colour all over her conscious world.

“The other thing about swans,” Coulson said, suddenly, “is that there is black, and then there is white.”

“Dark and light,” Jane said, and sighed. “One doesn’t exist without the other, sure. I think we’re straying into the laws of Newtonian physics here.”

“Does that help?”

“I don’t _know_.” Rubbing one temple, she gave a helpless shrug. “To be honest, the tesseract sounds more like something you’d explain with quantum mechanics. Like, maybe using the Heisenberg uncertainty principle.”

Coulson nodded, something deeply encouraging in the motion; it reminded her of the way her teachers had been in the last few years of high school, when they’d felt more to be guiding her to the knowledge rather than just laying it out flat for her to learn by rote. “And that is?”

Considering this for a long moment, Jane finally realised she already knew what he was getting at. “The more accurately you try to measure one property of a particle, the less able you are to measure the other.”

“Interesting,” he murmured, and she bit her lip.

“So what are you trying to tell me?”

“What are you trying to tell _yourself_?”

She closed her eyes. “Take the thing that destroyed your life and make it make sense.” And in that darkness she could see the gold of Asgard, the cool blue of Jotunheim – and behind both lurked always the misery they had both wrought upon Loki’s watchful face.

“And he can’t control it because now it’s responding to me too.”

When she opened her eyes, it was to find Coulson’s faint smile had returned. “Congratulations.”

A sudden roar of protest rose from behind them. When Jane turned, Loki was on his feet, remote held to his chest. Both Tony and Darcy looked on the verge of jumping him to get it back, while Thor actually appeared to be considering the diplomatic route. But it was Jane who stood, Jane who voiced the quiet question.

“Can I change the channel, Loki?”

He looked to her, and his eyes flared when he saw the hand she held out. The remote was pressed closer to his chest, to the place just over his heart. “No. It’s mine.”

“Can I have it, please?”

“ _No_.”

Even if she’d been a sorcerer rather than a scientist, Jane didn’t think fighting him for it would have made any difference. The light beneath the door grew brighter by the moment, and as she stared another tremor rocked the room. Tony swore, and Darcy squeaked. Thor himself looked distinctly uneasy. Only Coulson remained calm, his eyes upon Jane alone. In that, at least, she felt her own strength of conviction grow.

“Well,” she said, “if you’ve got the remote, you might as well change it to whatever _you_ want, then.”

 “But hurry up,” Tony said, dropping back into the couch. Taking up the tumbler from the side table, he slugged back half his scotch and gave Loki a baleful look. “It’s been too long since television destroyed some brain cells. I’m starting to think for myself again.”

“Poor baby,” Darcy said, sitting down beside him and grabbing for the glass; he held it out of reach for a moment, then drank the rest before turning mournful puppy dog eyes upon her.

“It hurts, Darcy. It really hurts.”

Thor ignored them both to stare at his brother. Jane couldn’t blame them; Loki had hunched over in upon himself, as if in sudden great pain. His whole slender body shook like a leaf in a gale, hands clenched over the remote.

“Loki?” he asked, though he did not quite dare to approach. “Loki, what is wrong?”

“I don’t know what I want to watch,” he whispered.

“Oh, great,” Tony muttered, upending his empty glass. “I need to be so much more drunk for this.”

For that Loki had no response. For Loki, nothing else seemed to exist except for his brother, as he craned his head upward and stared. Jane drew a sharp breath; the plea in that look was utterly alien to everything she had ever known of him. Yet to Thor, it seemed natural; he gave a gentle shrug in answer to his unspoken question. “It is your choice, Loki. You have to make it.”

When he looked at her, his eyes had turned accusing, almost hateful. In that she knew the truth: this room might be a construct of her own mind, a shield against the shifting syncretism of the tesseract beyond, but she could not doubt he was influenced by the true Loki.

Loki himself had cradled this cube in his own hands, after all.

“It’s not about black swans, you realise?” he snapped, sudden and furious. She could still see the misery underlying all of it. “It’s black _sheep_.”

“Oh, great, do we have to watch Animal Planet or something?”

Jane ignored Tony, kept her eyes upon his. “I know, Loki,” she said, very quiet. “I really do.”

He stared, like he wanted to believe her. Then he looked down, unfurling his hands. The remote lay there, quiescent and so very small for all the influence it might yet have.

Then, he looked up.

“Jane?”

“Yes, Loki?”

“I’m changing the channel,” he said, and pushed one button so quickly she could not possibly guess which it had been. But it didn’t matter. White noise filled the world, and then everything went black.

 

*****

 

When she opened her eyes this time, her hip ached a bitch and she could barely stand on her abused ankle.

“Guess some sacrifices just have to be made,” she muttered, and pushed upwards into a seated position. Trepidation dogged her every movement as she flicked her eyes over the vague familiarity of the trailer; it was not her own, but she felt fairly certain this was the one she had last woken up in. True certainty was just beyond her reach, considering she’d done little more than sleep here, and when she and Thor had used it to discuss the situation, they’d been distracted—

Wincing against the flush creeping up her throat to bloom across her cheeks, Jane pushed her hair behind one ear and resolutely looked away from the mess of sheets at the far end of the bed. One crutch leaned against the wall, she noticed; the other one had been lost when Loki had nabbed her outside before their heart-to-heart, wherever the hell that had actually taken place. Grimacing, she limped over to collect it. Tucking its support beneath her arm, she then she moved to the door and with some awkward wrangling managing to unsnib the lock and push it open.

The click of half a dozen automatic weapons being cocked stopped her dead almost as quickly as did the blinding sun of a New Mexico afternoon.

“I…whoa.”

Little else wanted to emerge, her throat too dry to support much in the way of vocal life. But as she stood there, too shocked to even raise a hand to shield her eyes, one man broke free from the group and moved forward. “Dr. Foster?”

“Yeah, I…” He wasn’t Coulson; the disappointment of that struck her surprisingly hard. Still, she thought she recognised him as Coulson’s second: a man efficient enough in his own clean and quiet way. “…how long have I been gone?”

He just shook his head. “I’m calling this in,” he said, pleasant and yet unyielding. A sudden snaking fear twisted about her heart, squeezed hard.

“Where’s Thor?”

“Calling it in, Dr. Foster.”

Even when he stepped forward to offer a gentlemanly hand to help her down, the other pressing his phone back into his pocket, Jane decided she had a very bad feeling about this.

 

*****

 

The incident with the housecall of Cthulhu had taken out a good chunk of the recently-built SHIELD facility near the Bifröst, hence the construction of Coulson’s Corral. (Jane had noticed the addition of a sign describing it as such hammered into the ground as she’d been driven out; she still hadn’t decided whether that was likely to have been the work of Darcy or Tony). But apparently enough of it either remained operational or had been recently rendered so because the most information she got out of anyone was that the Bifröst site was where she was being taken now.

Looking at her watch gave her no comfort; it had stopped long ago, and she suspected that that had happened long before she’d even touched the tesseract. The site itself, a hornet’s nest of angry construction sound while tarpaulins and plastic sheeting flapped over gaping holes in its exterior walls, seemed to have grown. She swallowed hard, chanced a look upward. The air felt thick, charged with roiling heat; thunderheads came and went with unnatural speed, though the man at her side seemed to think nothing odd of it.

That perhaps worried her more than anything else.

After moving through four different checkpoints said agent guided her deeper into the ruined and yet active complex. They were accompanied by four well-armed and completely anonymous men in black Kevlar. At least, she assumed they were men; the armour made it hard to tell gender by body shape, and certainly the helmets left everything to the imagination. With her ankle still AWOL she had considerable trouble keeping up, and when they stopped before a door and Coulson stepped out, she felt so relieved she almost wanted to hug him.

“Dr. Foster,” he said, eyes moving up, then down; she did not think it would escape his sharp gaze that she wore still the last clothes Darcy had seen her in.

“Agent Coulson,” she said, slightly cautious. The man had been a wreck after their adventures in diplomatic relations with Eldritch abominations; though his eyes remained sharp his body now seemed to be collapsing around him. Even his immaculate suit could not disguise the fact he appeared not to have slept in the last seven years.

He waved her in; the soldiers remained outside, and the other agent quietly pulled the door closed as he gave a wordless nod and left them alone. At Coulson’s nod Jane gratefully collapsed into the offered chair, Coulson sitting across from her. With no desk in between them, it felt oddly like a therapy session.

_Although, really, we’re going to be needing a few of those after this. All of us. I bet if we give Tony the transcripts, he’d even pay for it._

“What happened to you?”

“It’s a long story,” she said, utterly without irony. His weary nod said he’d expected as much. Pushing her hand back through her hair, Jane bit her lip and asked the question she’d been dreading. “How long have I been gone?”

“Four days.”

It could have been worse, she supposed, but still she winced. _Practical application of the principles of relative time dilation it is, then._ _Loki, you prick_. “Shit,” she murmured, and then felt her hands clench like claws as she forced the next query beyond numb lips. “So what’s happened here? Where’s Thor? That guy wouldn’t tell me anything.”

“He wasn’t cleared to tell you anything.” Then, the worst possible thing happened. Phil Coulson, the most collected and easily exasperated man she had ever met, put both of his hands over his face, hunched forward, and groaned like a little old man. “ _God_ , am I glad to see you.”

“Is…is it really that bad?”

“It’s probably worse.” When he looked up, the bone-white colour of his face only made the bloodshot sclerae of his eyes stand out more. “We’re on the verge of moving all this out to New York, but no-one particularly wants to risk leaving the Bifröst site with no…specialised personnel, especially considering how little we know about the wards Mr. Laufeyson applied.”

The name shuddered through her like an incantation. “Where _is_ Loki?”

“We’ll get to that.” Leaning back in his chair, every limb suffused with uneasy exhaustion, he raised his hands and let them fall. “So what happened to you?”

“And where is Thor?”

“We’ll get to that,” he repeated, and she felt some relief to note the more usual testiness of his prickly nature coming back to the fore. “Talk to me, Dr. Foster. I need something to work with here.”

Being someone who worked primarily with information first and foremost, Jane couldn’t argue his point. Her story came haltingly, at first – and not because she didn’t want to give it to him. It seemed more to do with her absolute inability to explain what had happened to her when she’d met Loki outside her trailer four days ago.

_Four days ago. And I can’t even pretend to hope that Thor took it at all well, no matter what Loki might have tried to tell him._

“…so he’s using the cube to warp reality?”

Jane watched Coulson rub his face, unable to argue with the weariness at the conclusion of her explanation. “To rewrite fate, I think is the easiest way to put it.” When she looked down at her hands, they reflexively twitched with the summoned memory of how it had felt to hold the damned thing in her hands the moment it had pulled her in. “I mean…well, like I said, I don’t really understand this. But I think to control it fully you have to give it something of yourself and Loki didn’t want to do that.”

“He took a punt on being able to control it just enough.”

“Given how powerful his will is, it probably wasn’t as stupid as it sounds,” she said, and hated to hear the frank admiration in her words. She supposed she couldn’t help it; all the good science was done by both geniuses and stupid people. Often at the exact same moment. “I just don’t think he expected me to realise I could do something like it myself.” Though she smiled, it never reached her eyes. “Or maybe he didn’t think I could do it at all.”

“I’d say I’ve seen stranger things, but frankly it’d be a lie.” He paused, and then gave into weary hope. “You don’t have the tesseract yourself, do you?”

She wished she could have given him a better answer. “No. I don’t think I ever did. I was just…inside it? Or something. I don’t know. I guess that means you don’t have it either?”

“No.”

From this deep within the building, she could not see the sky. In her mind it still roiled and twisted, a restless silver wolf charged with the potential energy of the hunt. “But you have Loki, don’t you.”

“We do.”

Sometimes over-stating the obvious was the only way to prove a hypothesis. “And Thor doesn’t like it.”

Coulson closed his eyes, gave in to the inevitable even as his entire body tensed. “I assume you’d like to see him now.”

Words danced uneasily upon the tip of her tongue: _what have you done?_ But she kept that particular tarantella to herself. With half the building gone the walk didn’t take as long as before. But the wing they entered had been clearly and solidly reinforced; her skin prickled uneasily as they stepped into an antechamber, as if the room had been flooded with sudden radiation.

At the far side, a familiar face looked up; faint irritation was almost immediately replaced by shock, and then great unbridled glee. “ _Jane_!”

The warmth of him wrapped about her, and as she scented grease and coffee and some ridiculously-priced cologne, Jane recalled Pepper’s words about loyalty and friendship. After a moment, she gave into the hug, into what she supposed probably looked like a cheesy Disney moment to an outsider. But considering some of the things they’d seen between them lately, right now she’d take all the rainbows and singing animals she could get.

“Are you really all right?” Tony asked, pulling back to look at her. The blatantly honest appraisal in her eyes told her she looked like shit. She supposed that was okay. Tony looked worse. “Loki…Loki said you two had been discussing the wards, harnessing the cube to them, and there was an _accident_.”

“Yeah,” she said, hardly unable to miss the way he curled his tongue around the very last word. “Yeah, I need to talk to him about that.”

Tony’s eyes flicked to Coulson, who gave him a barely perceptible nod. Jane felt a shiver down her spine even as she straightened her back, turning to the great door Tony indicated with one steady arm. “Be our guest.”

Like any good host, Tony came to open the door for her – not that Jane thought she’d have ever got in alone, seeing as it appeared she’d need at least one of his fingertips and both of his retinas to open it. Fear crackled beneath her skin like static, white noise enough to dull any other sensation. Yet when she crossed the threshold and saw what lay within, true horror replaced everything else.

“How…” When she staggered, she found Tony right there, waiting to hold her up. “…how did you _do_ this?”

“Graduated MIT at seventeen, Jane. I mean, I know I have a reputation for screwing around, but I only do it because I can.”

Very little pride underlay those words, and dully she supposed that was at least _something_. She took an uneasy step forward, noted the figure did not move. It shouldn’t have been a surprise. Such bonds couldn’t have allowed for much in the way of movement. As she stared at them, wide and worked with flickering electricity, she abruptly remembered their offhand conversation about fae and binding mechanisms.

“They’re not made of iron, are they?”

“No.” Tony shifted; with the great door closed again, their voices echoed hollowly in the white chamber. “…well, there’s a thread of iron in them. Just a little nod to tradition.” And at least he had the decency to wince. “I suppose you could even say it’s a signature, of sorts.”

“Because you’re such a traditional guy.” Despite the fact the body displayed no acknowledgement of their presence, Jane couldn’t raise her voice above a whisper. “Is…is he in pain?”

“To be honest, the more he struggles, the worse it gets.” The adam’s apple worked, fingers tightening at his sides even though the cocky cant of his hips and spine never changed. “But if he lies still, I don’t think it’s so bad.”

 _I don’t think it’s so bad._ Jane repeated the words in her head even as she took another step closer, even as she wondered how it could possibly be worse. Loki lay before her upon what looked like nothing so much as a table lifted from an alien autopsy video, as motionless as a cooled cadaver. The bright eyes were dulled, staring sightless at the fluorescence of the ceiling lights overhead. They cast harsh light upon the curves of bone and skin, chasing all shadows away and leaving him no place to hide.

“Thor doesn’t like this,” Jane said, a bare murmur as her eyes skipped from shackle to manacle to chain. Worked of metal, they flowed with wires and current. Though no engineer, she suspected that Tony had generated a sort of magnetic field to work a reverse kind of resonant frequency, one to cancel out rather than amplify Loki’s sorcerous energies.

“You saw the weather?” Tony said, quiet. “It’s been like that ever since…well.”

Turning from Loki, wordless with his silver tongue silenced, Jane could not hold back the break in her voice. “Where is Thor right now?”

“Looking for you, I think.” One hand rubbed tiredly over his dark eyes. “Well, that and a viable anchor point. We’ve been trying to open an Einstein-Rosen bridge, and we probably could try it from here, but…without you, and considering all those unexpected guests we had, well…” He shrugged, so close to helpless she wanted to cry. “Call me a cheapskate, but I didn’t want to foot the bill for that party.”

“You didn’t want to disturb Loki’s wards?”

“I’m a genius, sure, and I jerry-rigged that thing well enough that even Fury couldn’t pick holes in my work, but…the portal thing’s a bit beyond me.”

It took her a minute to find enough courage to ask. “What about Erik?”

“Dr. Selvig…” Tony’s eyes flicked sideways, and then he sighed. “He’s not feeling that great. They say he’ll be fine in a few weeks, probably, but right now…”

Feeling like she moved underwater, Jane rotated just enough to stare again at the motionless form. “You’re such a goddamned liar.” Yet with the anger, tears pricked at her eyes.

“Thor’s been trying to speak with Heimdall,” Tony said, finally. “You know, the guy I constantly pray to never call Goldfinger while I’m actually standing in front of him?”

“The guardian who sees all,” she said, and found no comfort in those words. “I’m not sure he would have seen me.”

“So where were you?”

“In a strange place.” Turning again, she drifted closer to the table. Like a coma patient Loki had no reaction, even with the loud sound of her limping stride. “Tony?”

“Yeah?”

One hand reached out, twitched towards one of the manacles. “Take them off him.”

“What?”

His surprise cut the air like a knife, but she felt so cold she doubted it could ever have cut her. “You put them on him because you thought he’d done something to me, didn’t you?” Swallowing hard, she recalled the thunderhead clouds outside, the uneasy skip of wind along the desert floor. “Well, here I am. It’s over now. Take them off him.”

A voice came over the intercom, low and tired. “Dr. Foster, I don’t think it’s over at all.”

“Trust me.” Twisting around, Jane looked towards the ceiling in the direction of Coulson’s words. “It’s over. I wouldn’t be here now if it wasn’t.”

“I think it would be a bad idea even if Thor happened to be around. Without Thor, I can pretty much guarantee it would be _end of the world_ bad.”

“We’ve been there, done that.”

Somehow she could actually hear Coulson shaking his head. “No, we’ve been there, _avoided_ that. And I’m not really in the mood to go another round.”

She hadn’t truly expected them to do as she said. In many ways, she couldn’t even trust her own judgement on the matter. Yet as she looked at him, still and white and silent, she remembered how he had been inside the tesseract, inside her haunted head.

_The point of the black swan theory is to take something that looked to have been impossible and make it plausible. …To rationalise the world. To make things make sense. Because we all suffer for a reason, don’t we?_

“Can I at least talk to him?”

Tony cast Loki a dubious look. “You…can try.”

“Is he actually unconscious?”

“I don’t think so. At least, we’re not making him unconscious. Mostly he just ignores us. We really don’t know how long this will hold him.”

From the dark circles she’d seen around both of their eyes, she could imagine it would be but one of many things that kept them up at night. “So you were just going to leave him like this?”

“We’re trying to open the Bifröst elsewhere, or at least get a message to Asgard. Thor thinks Heimdall likely knows what happened, but until we can open an Einstein-Rosen bridge, we’re kind of stuck with him.”

 _Poor bastard_ , she thought, and didn’t know who she actually referred to. “I’m going to try and talk to him.”

“Can you wait for Thor?”

“No.” When she turned to him, his wry look was almost a twin to hers. “To be honest, this is between me and him.”

“Fair enough.” One arm slipped through hers, their elbows linking closely together like the links of a human chain. “I’m just gonna stand right here and be your knight in shining armour though, okay?”

Her smile hurt. “Next time someone tells you you’re a selfish ass, Tony Stark, you tell them I said to shove it up their own ass. You’re the best friend anyone could hope for.”

Surprise painted his face with all the bright colour of an Impressionistic oil. Then, it melted into the sharp lines of a Picasso irony. “And what if it’s you telling me that?”

“Just come on, smartass.”

Crossing the room, they ascended the dais as one; it gave her an odd feeling, like they were peasants come to pay homage to their king. But no king sat upon his throne, here; instead a broken prince lay shacked to a table, defiant only in his silence.

“Loki?”

No reply came.

“You can hear us, Loki,” Tony said, tone sharpening. “We know you’re there. We’ve even got the biological readouts to prove it – though despite what they say, I think the jury’s still out on whether you actually have a functioning heart or not.”

Jane drew a sharp breath, though it was hard to tell if Tony was being serious or merely provoking. Either way, it appeared to work. When Loki spoke his voice was roughened and raw, but it still resonated through the room with regal disdain.

“Mr. Stark, I think you’ve done quite enough to inconvenience me for the meantime. You could at least have the decency to allow me some peace and quiet.”

Tony flicked his eyes to Jane, as if to say _that’s your cue, honey_. Swallowing hard, Jane stepped forward to take her mark. “I have something to say to you.”

Though he’d already been pale, Loki actually went white. “ _Jane_ ,” he whispered, stunned; it was the first time she’d ever heard her given name from his lips. It called her like a summons, and she drifted forward. Without even quite understand what she did, Jane leaned over him. In this, he seemed so small, so fragile. She was barely half Thor’s overall size, and Loki himself was at least a foot taller than she was. Yet, she felt in that moment that if she laid hands upon him she could snap him like a twig.

Instead, she placed her hands either side of him, and leaned down. He jerked beneath her, but she felt nothing but the warm thrum of Tony’s magnetic field, the scratchy linen of his borrowed shirt.

“I can hear it,” she said, soft. “There’s a heart in there.”

Loki drew one single ragged breath, and said nothing. Silence hung heavy, and Jane closed her eyes.

“Thank you.”

“Are…are you _hugging the crazy dude_?” Tony paused, then his voice skipped with the slightest addition of humour. “Hey wasn’t this _my_ plan?”

But she’d heard warning underneath the amusement, too. Backing off, Jane didn’t stand. Cross-legged, her aching ankle propped up on one knee, she kept herself just at his eye level with her empty hands clasped tightly before her chest. The pale face rolled towards her, eyes bright with what might have been curiosity, might have been pain.

 “What are you doing?” he said, hoarse. “And _why_ are you doing it?”

“I couldn’t have come back here unless you’d let me.” She let that sink in for a moment, then gave a little shrug. “I mean, I understand that maybe you didn’t make the decision yourself, not consciously. But some part of you did. So…thank you.”

At first she thought Loki would fight this battle with the only weapon he had left – his complete and total silence. Then, his brow creased and a bitter little smile turned the corners of his lips upward. “The tesseract.”

“Yeah.” The memory of white felt like a shadow at her side, ever waiting, ever watchful. She wondered if it would always be there. “Yeah. It was the tesseract.”

With a single slow movement he rolled his face back to the ceiling, to the merciless glare of the fluorescent lights. “And thus in the end, I betray even myself.”

“Loki,” she said, careful and sad, “Loki, you need to go home.”

“What, and take up my destiny?” His let his eyes fall closed, and as an accompaniment allowed the escape of a single cheated chuckle. “And here I thought you were the smart one, Dr. Foster.”

After that, there was nothing but the faintest fall and rise of his chest. Still, in her ears, she could still hear the memory of his heartbeat. Fluttering and fast, a hummingbird beat of uncertainty and something else.

 _Hope. It can be hope_.

“Come on, Jane.” Tony’s arm hitched into hers, his body drawing hers back and away. “We’ll go wait for Thor. _He’s_ going to be pleased to see you, at least.”

 

*****

 

Technically Jane hadn’t eaten in quite a long time. She still found she wasn’t hungry at all. The scent of food made her ill, in fact, even though the pancakes with their berries and mascarpone cheese had almost nothing in common with the popcorn she hadn’t eaten in her…

“Dream? Vision? I don’t even know what to call it,” she muttered, poking at a cranberry.

“A really fucking bad acid trip?” Darcy offered, her usual biting sarcasm lacklustre and lank. If Jane were honest, Darcy looked even worse than she herself did. But she had cheered up considerably since Jane had turned up back at her trailer, according to Tony. Given how wrecked she still looked, Jane hated to think what that said about the state of her beforehand.

“We’ve been searching for other nearby sites to open the Einstein-Rosen bridge,” Coulson continued as if they’d never spoken, absently pushing around salt and pepper shakers like he thought them some sort of visual aid. “The anchor-point in New York seems the easiest to monitor.”

“Except for the fact you blew it up once already,” Tony muttered, shoving a napkin holder between Coulson’s shakers. He went on undaunted.

“We’re fairly certain that was Mr. Laufeyson’s influence.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not set up to do it again, whether he’s around to do it himself or not.”

Moving on to squashing all the goo out of a blueberry, Jane shook her head. “But there must be other places.”

“There are. All over the world. How accessible they are seems to vary a lot, but whether it’s because of atmospheric or geomagnetic conditions, that’s more your schtick than mine.” By now Tony had retrieved a wad of napkins, and appeared to be making an entirely too elaborate paper jet from them. “I mean, sure, if we all want to drag Loki halfway around the world to some little town whose claim to fame is a crazy old guy who set land speed records on an obsolete motorbike, fine. I suppose we’ll have to do it. I just can’t say I’m up for it. I mean, I’m the kind of baby sitter who’s into the liquor cabinet the second mommy and daddy are out the door, yeah?”

Jane scrunched up her nose. “There must be something closer than that. Something easier to get him to.”

“If we can identify it, sure,” Tony said, by now giving up on the plane in favour of caffeine. “Opening it would probably be the easy part.”

“Is that what Thor’s doing, then? Looking for Bifröst anchor points that we might be able to open?”

“To a degree,” Coulson replied, and despite the quiet undertone Jane had to push a little harder.

“Then what else is he doing?”

“Working off his anger without killing the rest of us in the process.”

In the silence that descended upon them like a black cloud Jane poked her pancakes, skidded them through the liquefying mascarpone. The cranberries trailed red in their wake, leaving her meal bloodshot and cold.

“Thor’s angry about what you’ve done to Loki,” she said, finally. Tony shook his head.

“He’s also angry about what Loki did to you.”

There seemed little else to say while everyone proceeded to not eat their meals. Tony didn’t even bother pretending and instead worked his way through one pot of coffee with an alarmingly disregard for the laws of thermodynamics and the fact it was _very goddamn hot_. He’d got halfway through a second when they were interrupted – or at least, someone else came to put some actual spoken words into their mute conversation.

“Sir?” Jane’s skin prickled, again; she could tell how serious it was not just by his tone, but from the fact the agent had shunned all other methods of communication. “He’s back.”

Coulson turned to Jane. Her mouth went very dry, fork clattering to the formica tabletop. “Where is he?”

When Coulson stood up, didn’t even look to the other agent. “Come with me.”

A deep sense of dread filled her like the blood of another being pumped unwillingly into her veins, touched with a hint of trepidation. But a bright glowing _gladness_ burned deeper, flames fanned by the quickening beat of her heat. Whatever else happened, she wanted to see him again. A slight smile touched her lips, remembering how he had been inside her head. Then she thought of the true god, above and around and within her.

“You’re blushing,” observed an amused voice from her right.

“Shut up, Tony.”

Still, her smile began to fade as she recognised where they were going. They’d all piled into unmarked cars parked in a stern line at the edge of the perimeter, and driven in grim efficiency towards the Bifröst site. She’d only walked this particular path one before, but already she knew it as well as she did the way home.

Nothing could quite prepare her for the sight she found when she caught sight of the monitor displaying the occupants of the cell. Loki remained motionless in his shackles, though his eyes were open now. Staring at the ceiling, he did not appear to be speaking – though the broad, hunched back of Thor at his side meant she couldn’t see if he spoke either.

“You can go in, if you want.” Coulson’s voice hummed low, his face drawn and weary in the flickering light of the antechamber. “Even if he could hurt you, I’m sure Thor wouldn’t let him.”

Darcy remained silent, reflections dancing from the lenses of her glasses. Jane could remember all too well what she had said before Loki had introduced her to the cube. Much as she yearned to, she found she couldn’t argue with her conclusion. Jane had no doubt that Thor loved her; she’d felt as much the last time they had been together. He was also a man of deep honour, and had pledged himself to the protection of Midgard.

 _But Loki is still his brother_.

“He wouldn’t let him,” she whispered, and turned to Coulson. “I want to go in.”

When the door hissed open, she found that Thor had indeed been talking to Loki; his voice was a low murmur she couldn’t really make out, not that she thought it would have mattered even if she could. Though to her ear he’d always spoken fluent, if somewhat archaic, English, he’d once offhandedly mentioned something about tongue-spells and perception filters that allowed communication between the realms.

Whatever it was, whether by Loki’s sorcery or will or something else, it didn’t appear to be in effect now. Thor’s voice rumbled over unfamiliar syllables and rolled through alien dipthongs, low and pulsing and urgent in the way of summer storms. Loki still made no attempt to reply, though as the door hissed closed behind her his eyes rolled to her.

“Ah,” he said, curving his lips upward to reveal his teeth, “I do believe we have a visitor.”

Thor stiffened. From that alone she gathered that whatever else had passed between them in the days of her absence, Loki had only very rarely spoken to Thor. And that it had driven him half-mad. Peculiar, that the silver tongue was at its most vicious when it made no sound at all.

Then Thor turned, and she could think of nothing else. Like a tempest he roared across the room, crushing her to his chest in an embrace that felt to have all the power of a hurricane. Again, he brought with him that scent of smouldering ozone, a flickering charge across her skin, the taste of sky-iron upon her tongue.

He leaned back at last, and as their eyes met she couldn’t quite catch her breath. She didn’t know if it was because of the smile on his face or the fact he’d half-smothered her.

“Jane.” He spoke only in hoarse syllables, eyes wide and wondering. “Jane, you’re all right!”

“So much for your belief in my words, _brother_.”

Loki’s words had been casually tossed in his direction, but had held all the sharp precision of an aimed shuriken. When Thor turned, still with Jane held close to his side, the hurt in his eyes burned deep. “You never denied it.”

“Would you have believed me?”

“I would have wished to.”

Even Loki appeared to have no answer for words spoken with such low, pulsing intensity. Rather, he turned to Jane, eyes shadowed and mocking. “What’s that quaint Midgardian phrase, Dr. Foster? _If wishes were horses…?_ ”

“All Tony Starks would ride?” It wasn’t even what she’d meant to say. Still, a very, very faint smile was her reward. It seemed enough for her to say what she truly meant. “It’s done, Loki. You know I’m only here because of you.”

Now he returned his gaze to the ceiling, and shook his head. “You have no understanding of what I know.”

“But I wish to.” Thor’s own tone remained low, held that frantic vow that seemed to sap Loki of all his ability to care. “Haven’t you been listening to me, brother? I want to understand.”

“You _can’t_.”

“Only because you will not allow it.”

Loki closed his eyes once more and gave himself over to his silence. Thor’s entire body tightened, and when she looked up he had turned to give her a searching look. It only reminded her again of the difference between the brothers; Loki had both his expressive words and his expressive features, but Thor said so very much in the blunt and easy movement of eyebrows and a single tilt of his head.

“He needs you,” she whispered. And she let him go.

Thor returned to his brother’s side, but did not take his chair. Instead he went to his knees. One large hand lingered a moment, uncertain. Then it closed over one of his. Loki jerked, though the manacles about his wrists meant he could not go anywhere.

“Don’t touch me.”

Thor’s hand tightened. “Loki.”

The poisoned eyes turned upon her. “You’ve ruined _everything_. Can’t you see that?” His voice shook, though she thought it had a great deal more to do with fear than just with simple anger. “Great sorcery requires great sacrifice.”

“But I wasn’t _your_ sacrifice to make,” she said, quiet and calm despite the erratic beat of her terrified heart. “Surely it doesn’t count if you just piggyback in on someone else’s misery.”

His smile was all sharp teeth and the slow drip of metaphorical blood. “It depends on whose misery it is.”

“You’re making it complicated,” she snapped back, fingernails digging deep into the lifelines of her palms. “I thought you said that the simpler the sorcery was, the stronger it would always be.”

Eyes narrowed to a line of poison green. “You truly are a quick study, Dr. Foster.”

“You said yourself I could learn, if I wanted.”

“If there was someone to teach you.” A kind of careless tremor shivered down the length of his entire body, a snake sensing the movement of its prey from afar; when he laughed, the words fell out with it. “Shall I teach you of the true power of what lies within me?”

Loki jerked his hands upward. A great flash of light followed hard on the heels of the movement, both echoed with a great boom that felt like an echo of reality itself being torn in twain. Jane went down, hands over her head and her hip screaming with resumed agony. In amongst the roaring in her ears she thought she heard Thor shout something, but then there was another great crash. This one was accompanied by a rain of glass and silver rain, trickling through her hair and down her collar. She brushed frantically at both, felt the prick of sharp edges and cool water, knew she was probably already bleeding and only making it worse. She didn’t care. She looked up anyway.

Loki stood, freed from his bonds; with his arms crossed over his chest, he faced his brother head on, silent and still. Thor instead stood turned to one side, chest towards her; his centre of gravity he held low with Mjölnir raised in his far hand, the head parallel to the roof above.

“Do not do this, brother,” he warned, though his voice cracked on the last word. Loki raised an eyebrow, gave the most minute of shrugs to match.

“You never learn, do you?”

“What do you want of me?” he demanded, and Mjölnir sparked with the flare of his rising temper. Jane could still hear the desperate plea in his tone, and knew Loki certainly could not miss it either no matter how he might pretend otherwise. “Do not make me guess. You will have to tell me, Loki. Because Norns know I can never guess such things with you.”

“But even if I told you, you would never believe me.”

“Then _make_ me believe!”

Something flared in Loki’s eyes; Jane could not tell if it were temptation or scorn. “It’s too late.”

“It is not.”

“You’ve raised Mjölnir to me.” When he smiled, it was like a crack through a pane of broken glass. “It’s late enough.”

Though Loki always carried about him an aura of carefully concealed power, worn over his pale skin like invisible armour, Jane suddenly realised she could _see_ it. Coloured green and gold, shimmering and shifting, his magics rose to mimic the flickering energy of Mjölnir’s irritability, and the temper of the man who held it on the verge of a single cataclysmic strike. The air thrummed with emotion and energy and Jane shuddered. All stood upon the verge of the apocalypse.

 _No_ , she thought, sudden clarity in the single unseeing eye of the storm. _No, when it’s Norse gods in an epic smackdown not six feet from your toes, that’s called **Ragnarök**_.

“Would you both just calm. The fuck. DOWN.”

With those clear words spoken with the sharp power of successive gunshots, such a tone would have stopped a mortal dead in their tracks. For the gods amongst them, it seemed to act a little more along the lines of sheer disbelief. But they stopped, and that was the important thing.

And of all of them, Coulson was the only one who didn’t look surprised that they’d listened.

“I’m not even going to pretend I know what’s going on here. I’m not even going to ask how you got free, because Stark himself told me he didn’t think it was going to hold. But what I _am_ going to ask you to do is take this elsewhere.”

For a long moment Loki seemed to be completely incapable of believing what Coulson had just said. Then, he gave a short and startled laugh. “A mere mortal thinks to command _Loki Laufeyson_?”

“A mere mortal who happens to have to live on this planet after you and your brother finish kicking the shit out of each other, yes.”

Though it was clear Loki had plenty more to say to that, another cue was called: Tony stepped up to take his place at Coulson’s side, and though he did not wear his suit Jane could see the iron-hard gleam in his eyes. “The phrase you’re looking for, Phil, is _get off my lawn_.”

“Helpful as always, I see, Mr. Stark,” Loki returned, and then raised an eyebrow. “Though he may have a point.”

The pointed look he turned on his brother might have been a javelin thrust into his heart, for the wide-eyes shock it left Thor in. The hammer trembled at his side, his shoulders tensed. “Then you will come to Asgard with me?”

“Yes.”

In his shock his fingers jerked open; Mjölnir fell to the ground with a great resounding clang, trailing a sudden shower of sparks in silver and electric blue. “… _truly_?”

“Would I lie to you?”

There was a sound that might have been Tony smothering a snort, but it was Thor who answered. “Yes.”

“ _Thor._ ” The strain in his voice might have been laughter, might have been the suppression of tears. Hunching his shoulders with sudden pain, Loki bunched his fists and shook his head. “Thor, if you will it, then I can be whatever you need me to be.”

“Loki.” Deep confusion rendered Thor even less erudite than was his usual wont. Jane couldn’t blame him; Loki’s aura had dropped, his anger evaporated – and yet he still made about as much sense as a VCR manual. “Loki…you’ve spent your whole life pretending to be something that you weren’t, even before you realised it. Why would you keep doing it now?”

His head raised, eyes flashing deep green fire. “Because what I truly am, Thor, is your _death_.” The mobile lips twisted, a slash of furious hurt scorn. “Forgive me for deciding it’s not what I actually want to be anymore.”

“So be what you want to be.”

He turned on her, though Jane met his gaze with a stone cold grace she did not feel inside. “You say it like it’s so very simple,” he said, finally. Then he rolled his eyes. “But then to your mortal mind, perhaps it is. You have no vision.”

“Dr. Foster, I think you ought to stay out of this,” Coulson began, quiet; she raised a hand and cut him dead.

“No. No, I can’t. Not now.” Turning back to Thor’s brother, she pushed her next words out with all the force of will she could muster. It might be little in the face of that of a god, she realised, but it was all she had. “Loki, I’ve been inside the tesseract. I know what you’re doing.”

He held his silence, but the deep scorn of his expression said much. Jane pressed on regardless, dogged and certain. She had the data, she had the observations. Now it was time to draw her conclusions and render her hypothesis in shades of proven or not.

“You’re trying to make it make sense,” she said, careful as a candidate defending her thesis. “All of it. But that’s not how it works. …because the more you warp one thing to fit the pattern you want, the more you warp the pattern of everything around it.”

“Do not presume to lecture me on the vagrancies of fate, mortal.”

Her own reply was a whipcrack to split the air between them asunder. “Then do not _presume_ to alter mine to suit yours!”

He went very, very still. In the bright glare of the flare of his aura she thought perhaps she’d made a dire miscalculation. Then, it died, and when she saw his face again it was mere tired scorn.

“I do what I want.”

Silence held the moment still. Then, Jane whispered.

“But you don’t know what you want.”

Thor stepped forward, one hand outstretched. “Loki—”

He turned on him, leaning forward from the waist, legs braced in a manoeuvre that looked to be both defensive, and deeply desperately aggressive. “Tell me, then. _Tell me_ ,” he said with a hissing breath, each word pitched dangerously low. “Tell me what can I be, if I am not your brother?”

The emotion trembled between them, uneasy and sharp. Thor shook his head. “Yourself.”

All fight left him then. Loki sagged, hair hanging in his face. Though his aura had completely vanished the air about him still shimmered with high emotion; when he spoke, each word was a broken bloodied syllable rolled through broken glass. “I want to go home.”

“Then I shall take you home.”

Yet despite how diminished Loki appeared, Jane could not blame Tony for his next words, hissed sidelong in Coulson’s general direction. “Yeah, okay, cool, he’s ready to go back home – but how do we know that he’s going to behave long enough for us to get them there?”

Thor did not answer in words. Instead he bent one knee, long fingers wrapping about the handle of Mjölnir. A breath caught in her throat as he stepped close to Loki, stopped when they were but mere inches apart. Yet no sense of violence passed between them. Instead there was something uncertain, something almost shy in the way Thor held the head parallel to the ceiling, the handle inclined ever so slightly towards Loki’s right hand. Something passed between the brothers, strong and silent, echoed by Thor’s sudden words.

“An oath sworn on Gungnir is unbreakable.” Though his eyes remained on Loki alone, he managed to project his words to them all. Jane shivered beneath the regal weight of them, thought that was a skill of a prince – but then, maybe it was just something innate, something he’d been born to.

 _But then, he was born to be a king_.

“I thought that was Mjölnir,” Coulson said, quiet; Thor gave a brief nod, never once breaking gaze with his brother.

“It is standing in.” Again, a pause; when he spoke again, his voice rumbled like distant thunder, thoughtful and almost welcoming. A storm, after all, could so often wash away the detritus of a broken life to wipe the landscape fresh and clean once more. “Both Loki and I know the power of such a promise.”

Loki tilted his chin upward, both hands motionless at his sides. “Do we?”

There was an argument in that, Jane knew. She’d seen enough of the broken edges of both brothers to know that they could poke little holes in another one’s souls with those edges until the ends of all the worlds. Yet Thor did not. Blunting his voice, dipping his head, he stepped so close the only distance between them was spanned by the breadth of Mjölnir’s glimmering head.

“I promise you, Loki,” he said, low and charged, “I promise you upon all that I have been and ever will be to you, that I will never let you go.”

Loki’s lips twisted, but he did not look away. “I was the one who let go.”

“I know.”

One hand darted out, as quick as the strike of a snake. Yet he still looked surprised when it clenched tight about the patterned, ridged handle of his brother’s hammer. Still, his eyes were as steady as his words when he leaned even closer; despite the low whisper, they thrummed through Jane’s entire body like a clap of thunder had burst right overhead.

“I promise.”

It wasn’t until somewhat later that Jane realised that none of them really knew what Loki had promised. In the end she supposed they just had to trust that it would be enough that Thor knew.

And that Thor remembered his brother knew, after such a long and endless fall, far more than any of them ever would.

 

*****

 

Nothing could ever be simple, even with the unspoken strength of the promise between brothers. While no-one felt inclined to argue with the fact that Loki was the best qualified sorcerer in their midst – being in fact the _only_ qualified sorcerer in their midst – one could not escape the fact that SHIELD had made something of a noble attempt to hold him prisoner quite against his will.

Not that Loki appeared to care. He remained very quiet, kept constantly in the company of his brother, and provided Jane with all the assistance she could possibly require. Still, she could not disagree with Tony when he leaned over later that night and hissed: “I’m sleeping in my suit tonight.”

“You have some weird kinks, Stark.”

He gave her a sideways look. “It’s not _my_ kinks I’m worried about,” he muttered, and slinked off with thermos in hand. She watched him go, and had to wonder how even he expected to sleep when he was on the fifth thermos of the day. That she’d seen.

Still, as two days merged sleepily into three and the portal’s parameters came more into line with their predictions, Jane began to feel antsy. Her work fascinated her, and she would not have given up this opportunity for anything. But the more she worked, she closer she came to the end. The closer she came to a far simpler truth.

Thor was going to leave.

They had so very little time to spend together, considering everyone was in agreement that Thor was the only person who could control Loki – or, at the very least, was the only person with any hope whatsoever of controlling Loki. For that, even though Thor could offer little in the way of practical assistance (at least, not unless something heavy needed shifting or either she or Tony decided that a certain screen would be much improved by the addition of a large hammer), whenever Jane was with Loki, she was inevitably with Thor too.

A distance existed between them now, and its name was Loki. Though Thor was nothing but kind, as generous with his affection as his time, it was the affection of a dear friend more than that of a lover. Considering the strange circumstances of his relationship with his brother, even though she suspected she would never know the exact truth of what had passed between them that night on the roof, she supposed it made sense.

It still hurt.

She could feel the rapid approach of the end sometime before three in the afternoon of the fourth day. She’d caught Thor alone no less than five times, though each had been fleeting and the most she’d managed was a kiss the third time. It wasn’t that he avoided her, or pretended that nothing had happened between them.

“I need to do this for him,” he had said after the kiss, hand cradling her face, blue eyes weary. All of them would never forget the look on Loki’s face when they had placed the tesseract into an iron box, one now locked away until it could be borne back to Asgard. “I…I owe him this.”

 _He owes you more_ , she had wanted to say. But she had suspected even then that that was half the problem.

Though she wasn’t particularly hungry she rose from her desk, looked to where Loki shifted several diagrams he’d etched upon the air to superimpose them over a hologram Tony had generated. She passed a hand back through her hair, forced a smile. “Just going to meet Darcy for lunch.”

“Tell her hello for me,” Thor said, looking up from silently umpiring the muttered snarkfest that appeared to be going on between engineer and sorcerer. “I would come, myself, but…”

One great hand extended towards the oblivious pair, and she gave a crooked smile. “Have fun,” she said. And though he shook his head, Thor still smiled. Jane couldn’t help but feel a faint disquiet. They were so close to the end, after all. It seemed to her that now would be the time for the other shoe to drop, if Loki had chosen to betray them despite everything.

But she did feel a quiet sort of gratitude that Tony worked with Loki as much as she did. While his knowledge of sorcery was rudimentary and self-taught, she had no doubt at all the best person to keep an eye on a tricky fucker was a snarky genius.

In the makeshift cafeteria she and Darcy claimed a table far from the few other personnel on their break. Past the pleasantries, Darcy raised an eyebrow. “Not long now, then?”

“No. Not long.” She kept her eyes on her fork, twisting it about a squirmy piece of spaghetti. For a long moment Darcy held her silence, and then she spoke with such brightness Jane found herself staring.

“I’ve been thinking about what I’m going to do, you know, once I get around to actually graduating, and…Phil was saying he could find a permanent place for me with SHIELD.”

Jane knew she hadn’t been getting enough sleep and that even five minutes in the combined company of Tony and Loki tested the basic limits of human sanity, but at that moment she truly thought she’d gone mad. “Uh…doing what, exactly?”

“Thanks for the faith,” she said dryly, reaching up to adjust her glasses “Political scientist, remember? If we’re going to be messing with strange new worlds, we’re going to need people who are all about rules and regulations and making people sort their shit out so that everything doesn’t blow up in their faces.”

Jane only just bit back the remark _I didn’t think politicians specialised in creating less shit than they’ve already started_ , and instead raised her eyebrow higher. “What, you’re going to be an inter-dimensional diplomat now?”

Her shrug was loose and easy. “Haters gonna hate.”

“And this was _Coulson’s_ idea?” Chasing a meatball around her plate with the tines of her fork, she didn’t bother suppressing a smirk. “God, and he’s actually _met_ you and everything.”

“Yeah, well. He said politics is all about the crazy, so I’d fit right in.”

“That Coulson’s sure a laugh riot, isn’t he?”

“He’s fun,” Darcy declared, and Jane couldn’t blame her for leaping to the man’s defence. Still, she had to give a sceptical frown when Darcy went on with: “You know, we decided to go to some sort of Potterhead convention together one day. I’m totally being Luna.”

“What’s he going to be, Dobby?”

She reached across the table to smack her lower arm. “Watch it, sister,” she said, and when Jane kept staring finally relented. “Neville.”

“ _Neville_?”

“Neville is a badass,” she said, matter-of-fact as a heart attack, and Jane came very close to just dissolving into helpless laughter.

“And _how_ drunk was he when you decided this?”

“Drunk enough that he probably doesn’t remember,” she said with deep regret. “Maybe we should just go to a Giants game. But then we won’t get to dress his kids up as Harry and Hermione, and that would just suck.”

Leaning back in her chair, Jane crossed her arms and surveyed Darcy with something between amazement and deep abiding affection. “Honestly, how do you even do that?”

“Do what?”

“Make bestest friends with the guy who stole your iPod. I thought that was unforgiveable in your book.”

“He only borrowed it,” she said, and then suddenly her face sobered; the difference in her demeanour was so catastrophic Jane almost toppled off her chair. “You want to go with him, don’t you.”

There was no need to ask what she meant. The visions of Asgard she had seen on the television screen haunted her dreams at night, a siren call as terrifying as it was hypnotic. Jane did not doubt for an instant that they had been Loki’s memories. On their own, the images were beautiful, golden and shining and mesmerising in their impossibilities. But through the medium she had viewed them they also brought with them a yearning she did not think was her own.

“I do,” she whispered. “But I don’t think it’s time. Not yet.”

“Do you think it’ll ever be time?”

Such a question could never bear a simple answer. Jane turned it over in her mind all the same, her chest tightening as she thought of him. Of how he’d felt in her arms. Of how she’d felt in _his_ arms.

When she nodded, it was with the quiet assurance of knowing not even this world could be that cruel.

“There will be time.”

_I have a little shadow, that goes in and out with me…_

“Time, enough,” she said, looking out to the sky. Dark clouds were beginning to gather in grim clusters upon the horizon, and she knew a storm was coming.

_…and what can be the use of him, is more than I can see._

 

*****

 

She told a lie, as it turned out. When she’d said to Coulson she needed to go back to her lab to get some datasets she’d written out by hand and never transcribed nor transferred to the server, he’d automatically offered to send back one of his agents. She’d declined, her heart in her mouth; even when she’d pointed out that no-one could hope to find what she meant in the rat’s nest that was her desk, purposefully light, she thought those sharp eyes saw right through her.

He’d let her go, though. And now she stood upon the roof in the late morning, wrapped in a cardigan, shivering as the wind began to pick up once more. An hour or two more, and then it would be done. Loki would be gone, and with him his brother.

“Dammit,” she whispered, tears pricking at her eyes in lieu of the rain that was yet to fall. “ _Dammit_.”

She didn’t dare linger too long; two agents waited below to escort her back, and every moment she spent here alone was another moment with Thor irretrievably lost. She turned her face heavenwards, gave a brief smile.

“It was never going to be enough.” And she closed her eyes.

A moment later, a great thunderclap crashed directly overhead. Jane shrieked, almost lost her balance given her still-weak ankle. But she did not fall. With a great thump a figure hit the roof next to her, shaking the whole building with alarming resonance. A hand curled about her arm, pulled her close; when she dared open her eyes, she found Thor grinning at her.

“Hello.”

She punched his arm. “Don’t _do_ that! You scared the shit out of me!”

“I do apologise.” Although his widening grin said otherwise. “I thought you realised I was coming, from the weather.”

He was nodding upward, Mjölnir light in his hand, and she shook her head. “I thought that was for the portal.”

“It is, but I thought I might use it for something else.” Then he frowned, his smile dimming. “I…did I really frighten you?”

“Of course you did. Geez.” She rubbed her head, gave him an exasperated look that still couldn’t hide her pleasure. And he shook his head.

“I am sorry. Perhaps I should have realised – Loki hates it when I do that to him, too.”

She stiffened, although Thor didn’t appear to realise what he’d said. With a faint sigh, she shook her head. “Where is Loki?”

“At the Bifröst site. He’s arguing with Tony Stark again. I’m sure they will be fine for the meantime.”

 _Unless Loki programmes JARVIS to talk in GLaDOS’s voice again_ , Jane thought, but she kept that to herself. It would only get Thor reminiscing about the cake again, after all. “So…you came to see me?”

“Why are you so surprised?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“I understand, Jane.” Seriousness was not something quite rightly suited to his nature, Jane knew, but he could deal with it admirably well when he needed to. “I’ve been…unworthy, towards you.”

“No. No, Thor, _I_ understand.” She looked down at her hands, to the life and love lines that made her the individual she was. “I asked something of you, and I knew full well when I did that it wasn’t something you had to offer.”

“I still took something from you when I knew as much myself.”

“It was something I was willing to give.” Forcing her eyes upward, she bit her lip, then sighed. “Thor, it was enough. For now, at least.”

“And later?”

“Later will take care of itself.” With a careful step she came close, stood upon her tiptoes. She still barely reached his chin, but she caught his cheeks between her palms all the same, and smiled. “Take care of him, first. And yourself. I’ll wait.”

“You…” He took a deep breath, struggling. “…if there comes another, Jane, you…you needn’t wait for me.”

“It’s okay.” Their kiss was soft, yet surprisingly without melancholy. “You’re worth waiting for,” she whispered against his lips, and meant every word.

In the end she returned to the Bifröst site with Thor instead of the borrowed agents, wind whistling through her hair and while the short sharp current of Mjölnir sparked through every nerve ending. In that, at least, mere memory didn’t seem enough. Her body yearned for the creation of another, called for the pleasure of deep sensation one last time. From the look Thor gave her when they landed, he felt the same regret – but there was no more time. Coulson waited for them at the entrance, his face fixed and calm.

“Let’s go, people.”

All else passed in a blur of motion and thought, until all was stripped away to leave them standing before the quiescent portal. Loki had re-warded it, and Thor had insisted they would hold before raising Mjölnir to summon the storm that would power its opening. Jane closed her eyes, felt Darcy’s hand tight in hers; to Darcy’s left, she thought she heard something that sounded suspiciously like the Lord’s Prayer. On her own right, Tony muttered something she didn’t think she needed to hear at all.

But Thor and Loki stood before the portal, tall and twinned figures of a divinity far beyond their own mortal existence. Their shoulders brushed together, making it almost impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. _I trust him_ , Thor had said, utterly without guile or hesitation. _Loki wishes to return to Asgard at my side. For that, he will do what needs to be done._

Coulson had been doubtful, but the evening before when they’d stabilised the portal enough to just peer through its shimmering kaleidoscope lens, Heimdall had appeared. His voice of ages had intoned that to his Sight this held as the truth. Even Coulson had had to agree that he, at least, had no reason to lie.

“Still,” Tony muttered, suited though the faceplate remained up, “you gotta wonder how much shit this could cause if Loki’s just been lying this whole time.”

Coulson snorted, gave him an almost amused look. “Still got an issue with calamari?”

“I’m never eating fucking seafood ever again.”

Then there was no more time, either for snark or for prayer. With a great pulse of light and sound, the sensation like that of a sudden burst of radiation, the portal gaped open. Thor immediately looked to Loki, who looked back. Jane’s heart leapt into her throat. There was no way he would leave her without saying goodbye, but in that moment they seemed to see nothing else but each other.

Then, Coulson’s voice rose in sudden warning. “There’s someone coming through!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Tony shouted. “I specifically ordered _nothing with seafood_!”

But it was not the creature, and neither Thor nor Loki displayed any fear – at least, not fear in the sense of battle or blood. Loki had stiffened, and Thor’s hand moved to rest upon his shoulder with casual and easy reassurance.

“Be still, brother,” he murmured, words stark even over the sing-song resonance of the twisting portal before them. “This is how it should be.”

Jane’s breath caught in her throat. Two shapes had resolved themselves from colour and sound to exist before them all: an older man, with an elegant woman close to his side. He wore a tweed suit, one eye covered with a simple patch; the woman was dressed in an Edwardian gown of palest cream, the rich umber blonde of her hair twisted in looping curls that trailed halfway down her back. They might have stepped out of a Scott Fitzgerald novel rather than the Prose Edda, but without second thought Thor went to one knee before them.

“Lord Father.”

Loki remained on his feet – but he swayed, pale as a ghost. “Allfather.”

The man held his peace, careful, watchful. Yet the woman stepped forward without regret, without reserve, and turned her head, just a little. The warm smile fell upon Jane, eyes bright with wisdom – and with mischief.

“Hello, Lady Foster.”

Tongue-tied, Jane could only stare even as Darcy squeezed her hand so tight she could feel her rings digging deep into her finger. The woman smiled deeper, actually _winked_ , and then turned to the two gods.

“Loki.” One careful step forward, she extended her arms. “My son.”

For a creature wrought of thought and bitter emotion, Loki appeared to give this reaction no thought at all. In the warm welcoming circle of her embrace, he said nothing; when her hand moved over the curve of his head, he only held tighter. Her eyes flicked up, and a moment later Thor wrapped his great arms around them both, face buried in the long fall of his mother’s hair.

“Did…did we invite them?”

Darcy blinked at Tony, then left her eyes open wide. “I don’t know. Can you just _invite_ gods around?”

“I guess they can come pick their kids up if they want, but…um. Yeah. Wow.” Tilting his head, Tony’s gaze dropped down low. “…she’s pretty hot, right?”

Darcy obliged Coulson’s smothered groan by jamming an elbow into Tony’s guts, not that he noticed with the armour between them. Leaving them to it, Jane kept her eyes on the small family. The scene struck her as surprisingly pedestrian, if not for the fact one knew them to all be gods.

Even in such clothing Odin himself could never be mistaken for anything but what he was: the Allfather. He made no motion to join the embrace of his sons and wife, but when they began to move apart from one another, he held out his cane. It seemed ordinary enough; an old man’s walking aid, wrought of wood and tipped with gold on the lower end. Yet from the flicker of Loki’s eyes, the reverent nod Thor gave, she suspected another glamour. A moment later, she knew it. Loki’s hand trembled as it reached out, steadied only when it closed tight about its shaft. A moment later, Thor’s joined it, an oath sworn upon all their names. _Three kings_ , Jane thought, dizzied. _Past, present, and future._

“A cold coming we had of it, just the worst time of the year for a journey, and such a long journey. The ways were deep and the weather sharp, the very dead of winter.”

At Darcy’s murmured words, Jane turned, startled. “What?”

“Poem. You’re an astrophysicist, I don’t expect you to understand.” Her hand tightened about Jane’s, lips turned up in a bright grin. “But don’t worry, I love you anyway.”

A reply hovered upon her lips, but then Odin turned. Even in mortal guise, his divinity was unmistakable; he moved with all the confidence of someone who spoke to be obeyed. Even Tony kept his mouth shut as he stepped forward, single bright eye passing over them all. “Guardians of Midgard, greetings from the Allfather,” he said, voice resonant and as carrying as thunder, “we offer you our deepest gratitude for your gracious assistance in ensuring the return of Loki Odinson to his rightful realm.”

At the name, Loki stiffened; Thor’s hand tightened upon his shoulder, as if he thought him a horse about to bolt. His mother’s arm remained close about his waist. Coulson looked past all of this, and to Jane’s eyes he held himself slightly awkwardly, as if not sure whether or not to drop into a bow. “We…we are glad to have been of assistance, Allfather.”

“It will be remembered.” Odin turned to his family, his booming voice dropping down to a surprisingly gentle summons. “Let us go, then.”

But Thor paused, head tilted downwards even as he kept his eyes upon him. “Please, Father. Might I have a moment more?”

The Allfather paused for only the briefest time, and then gave a nod. Thor then looked to Loki. This lasted much longer, and the conversation that passed was spoken entirely through the medium of their eyes alone. It ended with a quiet nod, Loki’s face very still. Jane caught a glimpse of a much stranger expression upon Odin’s face, but then Thor was striding to her, taking up the whole of her world – the whole of her heart. A second later he swept her up into a hard embrace, her feet quite leaving the ground; as she laughed, she wondered how she could ever forget how much taller he was.

Setting her down upon her feet, Thor cradled her face between his hands and leaned very close. “One day, I will show you the road to Asgard. I swear that, on the name of the Allfather, and upon my own.”

“Show it to Loki, first.” His eyes flickered, but she didn’t stop to consider what lay behind them. She just pressed her lips to his, and then drew back with a smile. “I’ll wait.”

“Then I won’t make you wait too long.”

Despite the love that filled it, her aching heart felt as empty as her hands as he pressed his lips to her fingers one last time, and turned to walk back to his family. _What did Darcy call it? A mayfly-December romance?_ She was mortal; he was a god. As he returned to the fold of his mother’s arms, all of them dressed in the guise of mortals, she wondered at the foolhardiness of ever pretending otherwise.

_But then, all the great scientists took their chances with the impossible. That was the only way to ever make it possible, after all._

“Lady Jane,” he said, one final time, nodding to her as he hefted the iron box containing Loki’s tesseract. She smiled in tremulous return, even as the Allfather raised his eyes to them all.

“Again, we thank you,” he said, formal and simple. “When the time is more appropriate to such gestures, we will render you our thanks in a more formal manner.”

Coulson again nodded, and for the first time Jane realised his silence wasn’t his usual stoicism – he was genuinely tongue-tied. She might have laughed, if not for the sudden realisation. Loki looked back, a glint in his eye. Jane caught a breath – they all caught a collective breath. This was the prestige, the moment of the trick, when all lay upon the turn of a single moment.

Then he snorted, just light enough to be heard. “I thank you for your help,” he said, eyes flickering over them all, “despite how we have repaid one another. Let us assume for the moment all debts are paid and nothing remains outstanding.” But even as Jane began to nod, Loki’s eyes flicked over her to focus on one person alone. “Though I am sure we will meet again, Tony Stark.”

But there was nothing more to say, even as Tony’s eyes widened. The Allfather stepped forward, wife and sons about him, and then – they were gone. The mock Bifröst pulled back into itself, a swirling kaleidoscope of colour retracting into a singularity at its centre, before disappearing as if it had indeed never been. Overhead the clouds moved, began to disperse, the sky clearing to a brilliant blue limned with the gold. Tony shaded his eyes against the gleam of the revealed sun, and frowned.

“…was he flirting or was that a death threat, do you think?”

After giving this only the briefest consideration, Darcy shrugged. “Why couldn’t it be both?”

“And so we dance to the masochism tango!”

“All right, that’s enough,” Coulson said, placing his dark glasses back on his nose even as Darcy began to mutter something that sounded suspiciously like the opening bars of _Men In Black_. “I’m going to need you to all come back to the corral for a debriefing.”

“Oh, can we play _Oregon Trail_ again?” Tony asked, eyes widening. “Because honestly, Phil, no-one hunts bison like you do.”

“I said _debrief_ , Stark, not dysentery.”

His shrug was both easy and knowing. “Hey, if you want dysentery, I can live with that.”

Coulson shook his head, pressing his fingertips to his temple. “I am never going to paid enough for this shit,” he muttered, already walking away. Six feet into his retreat, he turned back. “Ten minutes! The mobile command unit! _All of you!_ ”

“Mister Bossy Pants,” Tony muttered, but he was laughing. For her own part, Jane kept her eyes on the sky. There remained no trace of them now, not even the faintest ghost of an aurora. The light of day was too bright, but somehow she thought she could see the night sky hidden behind it: a veil of stars between them, shimmering and silent and still.

“So,” came Darcy’s voice, her hands in her pockets as she swung on her heels, “…what do we do now?”

“I’m voting for party our asses off.”

“What, are you paying?”

“Honey, I’m paying _all night long_.” Patting his pockets as if already looking for a gold-plated credit card, Tony gave her a grin that could only be described as positively demonic. “We should get Clint in here. Like, fly him over from New York. I mean, sure he’s lousy at beer pong, but there is _nothing_ as hilarious as getting him drunk, putting a _Call of Duty_ game on the biggest screen possible, and watching him _fail every single shot_.”

Jane’s eyebrows rose. “And this is the master marksman?”

“So you’ve never seen a guitar master completely suck at _Guitar Hero_ , obviously,” he replied, and not without considerable glee. “To give Clint some credit, though, the one time he played Wii with me he did put the remote straight through the very _centre_ of the television.” He paused, then added, “we were playing _Legend of Zelda_. I’m never letting him live it down.”

“Tony,” Jane asked, “when do you actually find the time to do any work?”

His shrug was entirely philosophical. “Coffee helps.”

Thinking back on what they’d all seen she doubted that was quite it, but then Tony Stark always bent the rules to suit himself. As if reading her mind, he gave a bright grin and said, “I’m a tricky fucker, yeah.”

“No wonder you and Loki got along.”

“Yeah, well – never did get him alone, mind you.” Swinging a comforting arm over her shoulders, she gave a tight squeeze than she suspected had little to do with Loki and everything to do with Thor. “Always next time, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said, softly, and looked up again. When night came, she would be able to see it again – see where the scattered ribbon of the Milky Way stretched like a bridge across the sky. “There’s always next time.”

Then she turned, and with Tony on one side and Darcy the other, they all returned together to the promised debriefing. Darcy was already loudly declaring she was only coming for the donuts. That there had better be donuts.

Some time later Tony escorted her back to her lab, Darcy and Coulson already having decided to start the night’s inevitable party at one of the local bars. “Are you sure you won’t come, Jane? I really am paying.”

“No, it’s fine. I just…need to think, a bit.”

To his credit, Tony stayed with her for one drink; cider on her part, an alarmingly large glass of scotch on his. Still, despite the fact that to all appearances that Tony’s idea of basic etiquette consisted of stumbling over every single social cue with all the grace of a drunken frat boy, Jane did not doubt Tony was far more perceptive than people ever wanted to give him credit for. He stayed just long enough to be comforting, and nowhere near long enough to be unwelcome.

Alone in the end, Jane sat down before her computer and reached for the power button – and then stopped. Her notebook rested upon the desk. It had been days since she’d last seen it, of course. She still remembered that it had been closed. Now it lay open to the one page she could have found even in the dark.

The world tree unfolded its great branches before her, each carelessly and yet reverently rendered in Thor’s hand; those same branches wound around each of the planets she had drawn herself. Below them, tangled amongst the roots, Loki’s equation had been crossed out by the same hand that had written it. Something else had replaced it, again in the same looping script of before.

_He hasn’t got a notion of how children ought to play,_

_And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way._

_He stays so close beside me, he’s a coward you can see;_

_I’d think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!_

“Poor little shadow,” she murmured, and sighed. The screen flickered as the power came on, and she took a deep breath. In every ending there was always another beginning. The next time this started all over again she would go to Asgard, and they both knew it.

“But we don’t know how it’s going to end. Not yet.”

She bowed her head, and returned to her work. There was always work to be done. In this, at least, she was certain that at the end of it she would find the answer she still searched for.

Her next beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I would say "And that's all she wrote," but y'all know that's a lie. I'll put up that missing scene soon.
> 
> But again, thank you so much for reading this far, and I hope my inability to end anything definitively isn't as painful here as I think it is. If you're curious, there are a LOT of pop culture references in the television scene; you're quite welcome to ask me to explain them if you missed them. I just hope the basic theme of it made sense. I do know that at some point I am going to go back and reread the entire story and bring it all into proper alignment, given I started writing it with no idea where it was going, so...yeah.
> 
> Thank you, again. You've made it worth writing, just by being here to read. <3
> 
> Incidentally, Loki's poem is Robert Louis Stevenson's "My Shadow." The poor dear still hasn't got over it. But one can but hope that all he needs is time, enough.


End file.
